


Obscura

by twilightscribe



Category: Demento | Haunting Ground, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q Big Bang, Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Complete, Disturbing Themes, Implied Cannibalism, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Stalking, Threats of Forced Impregnation, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Video Game Mechanics, Violence, Werewolves, horror themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/twilightscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he woke up in a dungeon, it was only the start of this living nightmare he found himself in. The only ally that Q finds in this place is a wolf that isn't all he appears to be. As it stands, though, with him being chased after for something he doesn't know or understand, Q has one goal in mind: survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memento Vivere

_There was a bright light filling up the windshield – he thought they were headlights, but they couldn't be because they'd be on the wrong side of the road then – and the sound of tires screeching on pavement as his father slammed on the brakes. It was too late because the light was everywhere and_ Q shot up, eyes wide and with a yell on the tip of his tongue.

But there wasn't a car, and he hadn't been flung through the windshield by the impact. Looking around, he realized that he wasn't anywhere near the narrow road that he recalled. Instead, he could hear the sound of water dripping onto stone and feel a chill sinking into his skin. Everything was blurred around the edges, and he fumbled around near his side for his glasses.

He was more than relieved when his fingers closed around the familiar frames. Q shoved them on and looked around.

Obviously he'd awoken in a dungeon of some sort. There were shackles affixed at specific points on the back wall and the cot he'd woken on was lumpy. Also, the reason he was so cold was because he was naked except for the thin sheet that had been thrown over him; his clothes were nowhere to be found.

Holding the sheet tightly around his waist, Q swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood up. The sudden change made his head spin and he stumbled, sinking to his knees as he pressed the butt of his palm against his forehead. Once the feeling of vertigo had passed, he slowly pushed himself back to his feet and tied the sheet as tightly as he could around his waist. If it was the only cover he was going to be afforded, then he was going to make damn good use of it.

The dungeon hadn't been used in quite some time, judging by the rust on the bars on the cell. Across from his cell was another cell that looked equally derelict; however, the lock on his looked fairly new. Well-cared for, at least.

Reaching through the bars, Q fumbled for the lock. He was surprised and more than a little suspicious when he realized that it was unlocked. He glanced up and down the passage to see if anyone was there, but all he could see was murky darkness and a solitary torch burning in the bracket beside his cell.

After a few seconds of fumbling, the door of the cell opened. It made a loud shriek of protest as it did and Q winced, waiting for several minutes but no one came.

Under his feet, the stone was cold, smooth, and damp. The chill of the air was already settling in; Q shivered, wrapping his arms tightly around himself to try and ward some of it off.

To his left, the passage ended abruptly with another set of cells, both of them as small and derelict as the one he'd awoken in. The way out was to his right, through a barred door that was half open and a set of stone stairs which spiraled upwards. Given his lack of options, Q took the stairs; there was a chance he might be able to escape or find something to defend himself with before whoever had taken him realized he wasn't in his cell.

The stairs were made of the same smooth, cold rock as the floor of the dungeon, but without much illumination, Q took them with caution. He hugged the wall, fingers touching the rough hewn bricks of the wall as he carefully edged forward and slowly took each step.

Slowly, he made his way up the staircase, making out a thin line of light some ways up. He could only hope that the door at the top of the stairs wasn't locked.

When he was a few stairs from the top, he stepped on something. Q inhaled sharply from the shot of dulled pain; whatever it was he'd stepped on, it had edges and was made of metal, although luckily it wasn't sharp. Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached down and slid his fingers along the rough stone until he found what he'd stepped on.

Between his fingers, he felt the shift and slide of metal tags and the smoothness of worn leather. Closing his fingers around the object, he picked it up. The metal tags tinkled together as he picked them up; Q couldn't make out what they said in the dim light, but a couple more steps up and he'd pressed his hand against the heavy wooden door.

It wasn't locked.

Finding the rusted latch keeping it closed, Q pushed the door open and stepped into a small room. He looked around, noting there was a carefully made up cot tucked away in an alcove across from the door and the large, heavy oaken table in the centre of the room. There was a door on one side of the room and a fireplace with a roaring fire on the other; lanterns hung from a few of the columns between the arches, filling the entire room with a warm glow that didn't quite reach the high, vaulted ceiling.

There wasn't anyone there, so Q looked down at what he'd picked up on the staircase. It was a pair of dog tags on a worn leather thong, which had been torn and a little bloodied on one of the torn ends. Turning them over carefully in his hands, he could make out a name.

_James Bond._

_Are they keeping someone else here? Or..._ His hand clenched around them. Either way, they could possibly be worth holding onto – just in case.

Feeling vulnerable in nothing but his sheet, Q quickly moved towards the door. Like the one leading down into the dungeon, it wasn't locked and he pushed it open with some effort.

The cold air and dull light of twilight greeted him. Looking around, Q couldn't see anyone, but he realized he was in some kind of enclosed courtyard. Dead trees lined the worn dirt path which led towards a broken fountain. Stepping out into the air, gooseflesh raced up Q's arms and he cautiously made his way along the path. Dirt and loose rocks dug into his feet, and Q winced at the discomfort.

A raised dais of some kind was near the fountain, which was choked with algae, with a large oak tree planted at its centre. Beyond the fountain and dais, the path divided itself in two, one side was blocked by a metal gate, but the other looked clear. There was also a staircase which led up into a large and foreboding stone castle.

The castle was probably where whoever had taken him had gone, and Q was unwilling to venture into it unless he absolutely had to. Instead, he walked towards the fork in the path and the unblocked path. Strewn along one side of it were cages, and it led past a fenced-in enclosure, although there were no animals to be seen except for the crows in the dead trees.

The path resulted in a dead end.

That seemed to be his luck today, Q doubled back and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the castle before he started up them. His feet were sore from the rough ground, and the worn stone of the stairs wasn't much better.

Reaching the top of the staircase, Q realized that he'd not only been kidnapped but he was also completely lost. The castle, it seemed, was built like a maze; paths led everywhere and more staircases arched overhead, with numerous doors leading into the castle and who knew where from there. He could probably wander for days in this castle and never find his way out.

Still, he didn't have much choice. There was another staircase leading up, though Q couldn't see where it led from this level, but there were several glass doors that led into the castle and he tried those. All of them were locked, though he could see light inside.

That there was electricity was a bonus; that meant that there was the chance he could find a phone and call for help. Despite that the grounds looked poorly cared for and that the plants dotting the level he was on were all dead and withering, the interior of the castle – from what he could see – looked relatively well cared for. Clearly, someone _**did**_ live here.

Another barred gate blocked Q from exploring any further and, although he tried pushing on it, it refused to open.

_Guess the only way out of this is up._

Walking up the staircase, Q tried to see if he could see a way out, but he was only able to make out the stone walls of the castle. Beyond the heavy stone walls of the castle he could see a deep forest. There were no signs of civilization anywhere.

The landing of the staircase led to a blue door with a glass inlay in an unfamiliar pattern. Trying the handle, Q was surprised when it opened easily. He was greeted by a blast of warm air and he quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

It looked like a very well-furnished, split-level guest room. There was a sitting area and a television on the lower level, where Q was, and he could see a bed and a blazing fireplace on the upper level – along with another door. Old paintings and pressed plants in frames hung on the walls, giving the place an aged, old feel along with the stone brick walls.

The only sound that Q could hear, apart from his shallow breathing, was the steady ticking of a clock. Stepping further into the room, Q made his way towards the door. Despite the electric lighting, the television was old and the entire room felt incredibly dated.

There was also no phone.

Q quickly made his way up the two steps leading to the upper level, only sparing a quick glance at the painting of the old man hanging on the wall opposite the bed – it gave him the chills. He reached for the doorknob, only to stop when he felt the prickling sensation of eyes on him. But... that wasn't possible – there was no one else in the room and he hadn't heard the door open.

Spinning around, Q kept the door at his back and nearly jumped when he spotted the woman standing beside the bed. He inhaled sharply, though, and stared at her with wide eyes, clutching his sheet tightly around his waist.

The woman stared at him, the smallest of smiles on her face, though it was at odds with the dull look in her eyes. She was dressed in an old maid's outfit with a high collar, and there was a symbol of some kind embroidered in gold on the shoulders. She gestured to the bed.

“I have gathered you some clothes,” she said. Her voice was flat and halting, completely devoid of emotion. “I hope that you find them comfortable.”

“Who are you?!” Q was glad that his voice didn't shake. “Where am I?!”

The woman said nothing, instead staring at him blankly before slowly, her movements robotic, like a wind-up toy, walking towards the door. Her frame was thin, and Q took an involuntary step back as she came closer. Something about her wasn't quite right and it scared him, more so than waking up in the dungeon had.

“Answer me!” Q snapped as the woman's hand touched the doorknob.

She halted, tilting her head to the side in a jerky movement. Instead of looking at Q, she looked past him and over his shoulder to the picture of the old man.

“Yes, master, I will keep him here for you,” she said, again in that flat, halting voice. “I will ensure he remains... whole.”

“I'm not staying here,” Q said sharply. “You can't keep me here.”

The woman didn't meet his eyes. She kept staring at the painting.

Nervously, Q glanced over his shoulder at the painting. He hadn't realized before, but there was something... familiar about it.

_He remembered lying in the back of the car, dazed, the world blurred at the edges and swaying as though he was on a boat. There was a figure at the window though, silhouetted in light from the headlights, leaning towards him and reaching_ Q opened his eyes. He was sprawled on the floor. The woman was gone.

Pushing himself to his feet, Q looked around. The room was unchanged from how it had been when he'd first entered, with the exception of the clothes lying on the bed and that the sheets had been turned down. Obviously, someone was expecting that he would be staying here.

“Like hell am I staying here,” Q grumbled, getting to his feet and securing his sheet about his waist. The dog tags he'd picked up were lying a small distance away and Q picked them up, turning them over in his hands. The leather felt warm and comforting in his hands, as did the sound the tags made as they clinked against each other.

He looked over at the clothes that the woman – the maid? – had laid out. Slowly, he walked over to them. They seemed harmless enough and it was certainly better than wandering around in a sheet. There was even a pair of sturdy leather boots sitting beside the bed.

The boots made the decision for him.

Q dropped the dog tags and their accompanying leather thong on the bed beside the clothes. He untied his sheet and let it drop next, reaching for the clothes. The clothes were simple; merely a pair of dark green leggings with a cream-coloured tunic and a dark brown belt. Despite how simple they looked, the fabric was soft and obviously expensive when Q picked them up.

He pulled the leggings on, surprised by their snug fit. The belt was etched with designs and thick, more ornamental than anything else, but the tunic was incredibly loose when he pulled it over his head and billowed when he moved. He ended up belting it around his waist to keep it closed; the end of it fell to mid-thigh and the sleeves, luckily, were fitted from the elbow down.

Sitting down on the bed, Q pulled the boots on, pleasantly surprised when he found a pair of socks tucked into one. Well, at least he didn't need to worry about blisters.

Fully dressed, Q sat on the bed for several moments, gathering himself. He still didn't know where he was or who had brought him here or why he'd found himself naked in a dungeon. The woman hadn't seemed too keen on returning him to that cell and she'd given him clothes, which contradicted the state he'd woken up in. She also didn't look like she'd have been able to drag or carry him here from wherever... wherever the car was.

There was the issue of this 'master' she'd mentioned. It was entirely possible that he was the one who had brought Q here, and the woman was simply an accomplice. That seemed most likely, and that left him having to deal with two people who wanted _**something**_ from him.

He still needed to escape. That was his immediate priority.

As he made to push himself onto his feet, his fingers brushed against the leather thong of the dog tags. Q looked down at them and frowned.

For whatever reason, they offered him some measure of comfort, even though there was the possibility that they belonged to his kidnapper. But the torn leather and blood contradicted that. He couldn't remember putting up a fight, but everything before he woke up in the dungeon was something of a blur. He remembered his parents, that they had been coming back from vacation and forced to use a mostly-abandoned narrow road... but not much else.

He didn't know how he'd been brought here, or why.

Q shook his head. The reasons for the how and why weren't important. He needed to focus, and he needed to find a way out of this castle – or a way to call for help. And he wasn't going to find any of that unless he left this room.

Holding up the dog tags, Q watched as the light reflected off the metal, throwing shadows from the raised surface of the lettering. _James Bond_. They felt warm, a comfortable weight in his hands.

With a sigh, Q reached up and tied the leather thong around his neck. The dog tags bumped against the bare skin and Q felt comforted by the weight and presence of them. He pressed his fingers against them once before he stood up and walked towards the door, giving the painting of the old man one more look before he opened the door and left.

The guest room led out into a hall, one side of the hall was taken up by open arches that overlooked another courtyard; ivy climbed up the columns of the arches. There was no one around. Closing the door behind him, Q headed down the hall.

His footsteps were the only sound and Q was reminded just how alone he was. He touched the dog tags again.

_Splash!_ Q blinked and glanced down.

His eyes widened and he jumped back. He'd just stepped into a puddle of blood.

He covered his mouth and stared. The blood streamed down from where it was splattered against one of the columns. Some distant part of his brain supplied that it was a considerable amount of blood and it was _**fresh**_ too, not dried.

Just what sort of nightmare had he stepped into?

Carefully, Q edged around the blood, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Pressing his back against the wall, Q took a deep breath to steady himself. He definitely needed to get out of here before he became a splat of blood on the wall too.

Taking a couple deep breaths, Q steadied himself and kept walking. A door set in a recess in the wall opened and led into a small study and library. All of the books were bound in leather and looked aged, though there wasn't an inch of dust to be seen.

Browsing the titles, Q noticed that they were written in a wide variety of languages – he recognized English, Latin, Italian, German, French, and Russian among the titles. Trailing his fingers along the spines, Q tried to pick up a pattern to their titles, but if there was one, he couldn't find it. The smell, though, was comforting.

Leaning against a bookshelf in the corner was a chalkboard, upon which something had been written. Crouching down, Q leaned in to investigate.

“Luminessants...”

_Luminessants are tiny creatures that respond to the ethereal energies given off by Azoth. They can be used to help track down nearby Azoth. However, several precautions must be taken while handling them:_  
• When Luminessants come into direct contact with an Azoth infused item or being, they send forth a small charge which shocks the carrier. The higher the concentration of Azoth in said carrier, the greater and more powerful the shock.  
• Luminessants' life span is dramatically decreased whenever they come into direct contact with the open air. This time differs from specimen to specimen, but is never much longer than a few minutes. 

Q frowned, rocking back on his heels. Luminessants. Azoth. Neither word held any real meaning for him. He'd thought that it was just a misspelling at first, but the insistence of it said otherwise. Still, he filed away the information for future use – just in case.

Standing up again, Q resumed his examination of the titles in the library. A fair number of the ones that he could identify had some relation to fairy tales or alchemy, though none were in-depth. There was a locked desk in an alcove, but nothing else of any interest or use.

Leaving the library, Q continued down the hall, leaving behind the courtyard and entering an enclosed hallway. He tried the doors he found, but all of them were locked.

Nearing a corner, Q could make out a shuffling noise and something that sounded like someone plucking the strings of an instrument. He froze, listening carefully as he edged closer. The shuffling was quickly joined by a whimpering noise that sounded like... sobbing?

Something flew past where Q was standing, pressed up against the corner, and he fell backwards with a startled noise. The thing hit the ground with a dull clatter and Q realized that it was a lyre of some kind, made of a burnished, dull silver.

“Wha...”

Following the lyre was a woman. She threw herself on the ground by it, making muffled whimpering noises as she did. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders like a tangled veil and she was wearing a tattered dress that clung to her; the filthy folds looked as though they'd been white at one point, and edged in gold trim. Her bare arms were covered with criss-crossing scars and – Q blinked and felt the pit of his stomach drop out. Bandages had been wrapped around her arms in places, and there were long, damaged _**feathers**_ poking out from between them.

As she carefully pulled the lyre close to her and cradled it against her chest, Q realized that the tips of her fingers were stained with blood.

Shaking slightly from the fright, Q slowly shuffled backwards. The movement and sound drew the woman's attention and her head snapped towards Q and he found himself frozen.

Her lips had been sewn shut.

There was a mass of scarred tissue surrounding the stitches, and they were stained a dark black from blood. The corners of her mouth were stained with dried blood. Her lips were a dark purple from blood and bruising, though they didn't look horribly swollen. The stitches must have been old.

She stared at Q with deep, dark eyes ringed with a fine down of lashes. At her temples were an upsweep of feathers, drawing attention to her eyes.

Despite the mangled horror that were her lips, Q found himself transfixed by her alien beauty. He wanted to move but his limbs felt like lead and he couldn't look away from those dark eyes of hers. He trembled violently.

The woman twitched and moved towards Q in a jerky movement, reaching one bloodied and long-nailed hand towards him.

Her movement broke the spell on Q, and he shot backwards, dragging himself backwards from her to put as much space between them as possible. His legs shook when tried to get to his feet and he collapsed again.

She blinked, still reaching towards him and her nails were like a bird's talons – hooked and viciously sharp. Her wide eyes stared at him, taking him all in and then she slowly crawled towards him, lyre forgotten. As she moved forward, her hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face.

Fresh blood welled from the wounds of the stitches as she came closer and Q jerked away, finally getting his feet under him. He stumbled back a couple of steps, then turned and ran. He had to put as much space between them as possible.

The castle was built like a maze, all winding halls with multiple forks and corridors to take, but Q remembered the path he'd taken from the guest room and fled towards it. He could hear the light footsteps of the woman behind him and he pushed himself to run faster.

Reaching the guest room, Q wrenched the door open and slammed it closed. His fingers fumbled with the lock for a few seconds, but it didn't take long for him to slide it into place. He leaned against the door, breath coming in shuddering gasps as he slid to the floor.

The woman slammed into the door with a loud thud. Q could hear her clawing at it, could hear the sounds of her shuffling and whimpering as she did. The door shook as she hammered and clawed at it, but it held. She kept making pathetic sounds deep in her throat as she clawed in the door, and Q felt his heart pounding in his throat.

He found himself praying to a God he didn't believe in that she'd give up and leave. His breath stuttered and he gasped for breath, trying to catch it.

The minutes dragged by, marked by the tick of the clock and the sound of the woman scratching at the door.

Q counted ten minutes in his head until the scratching died away. His heart slowly stopped its rapid staccato against his throat and he inhaled deeply, fighting back a feeling of light-headedness. The sound of the woman's shuffling and whimpering faded into the distance until he couldn't hear it at all.

Drawing his knees tightly to his chest, Q dropped his head to rest on his knees and took several deep, steading breaths. He counted the minutes until another twenty had passed before he pushed himself shakily back onto his feet.

With no small amount of trepidation, Q unlocked the door and eased it open, peering around the heavy wood to the hall beyond. The woman was gone and he couldn't hear her shuffling or whimpering. Shaken, he stepped out and into the hall again, retracing his steps cautiously and carefully to where he'd met her.

The lyre remained where the woman had dropped it; stained with blood from her fingers. Q carefully stepped around it and glanced down the hall from where she'd come from. It ended in another dead end, although Q could make out the outline of a door in the dim light. There was also a door to his left, right behind a crate full of... something.

Wandering down the hall, Q opened the door and carefully glanced inside. The room was empty, except for an empty birdcage in one corner, the fallen chandelier in the middle of the room, and what looked like a typewriter in the opposite corner.

Upon closer inspection, Q realized that the typewriter wasn't a typewriter at all. It had the keys of one and certainly looked old, but there was no place to put paper and the various mechanisms attached to it didn't make much sense. Beside it, there were a number of small metal plates. With a trembling finger, Q reached out and pushed down on one of the keys. It made a loud noise that made Q jump.

Pressing a few more keys, Q hit the enter key. The machine made a loud whining noise before one of the plates popped out from the slot. Q stared at it for several long seconds, before realizing that what he'd typed out appeared on the plate.

“Well, that's certainly... something, but not helpful at all.” Q sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't found anything useful yet, except one terrifying bird-woman and a machine that made inscribed metal plates. Hardly the phone or escape route he was looking for and needed.

He still had that other door to check out and he might as well. There possibly could be a way out through it.

Returning to the door, Q stared at the crate and prayed that it wouldn't be so heavy that it would throw out his shoulder or exhaust him. Bracing himself against it, Q pushed and it slowly moved out of the way with a loud creaking sound. It was definitely heavy, though, and Q took a few deep breaths as he leaned against it.

The door was unlocked when he tried the handle and Q pushed it open, emerging into a lab of some kind. It looked a little like an old-fashioned chemist's lab, though some of the equipment was unfamiliar. A fire burned in the fireplace and there was another door, this time blocked by a large golem.

Q stared. A golem. Really.

“What is this, _World of Warcraft_?” Q asked in a low voice. He crossed his arms and glared at the golem blocking his way. There had to be a way around it.

Upon closer examination, Q realized that there was a slot in the golem's chest. A quick glance behind him at the papers and journals stacked on the table drew his eye and Q moved over, scanning through them quickly. One of them mentioned a golem – one that its creator had dubbed 'Emeth'.

Q rubbed his temples and sighed, “Honestly, I don't have time for these stupid puzzles...”

Still, it was something and that slot probably was meant for those plate keys the machine in that other room made. Q backtracked to it, typing out the word 'emeth' and obtaining the plate key. He returned to the golem, weighing the key in his hands before pressing it into the slot.

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then, the golem straightened, joints cracking and shedding gravel and dust as it did. It stepped away from the door, moving until it came to rest in a corner of the room.

The door was unlocked and Q smiled just a little. Well, hopefully his luck held out for a little while longer; just until he got out of here.

The door led outside onto another exterior stone walkway. Q investigated the nearby staircase, but it ended abruptly as half of the stairs had collapsed. However, there was a ladder which led to the small courtyard area below. Testing the rungs, they seemed to hold and Q carefully made his way down it.

A path led past a door framed by statues of half-dressed women and the collapsed stairs lay in the corner. Trying the door was useless because, as Q found, it was locked. The dead silence outside was unnerving, because there wasn't even the sound of birds or owls. It was silent except for the quiet rustle of the wind and the crunch of Q's boots in the dirt.

The only light came from several lanterns hanging on the wall and the dim light of the moon and stars. Night had fallen while he'd been trapped in the castle.

Q wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to ward off the chill of the night that he could feel through the thin fabric of his tunic. The leggings were thick enough that he couldn't feel the chill through them, but the light fabric of the tunic only covered his skin and offered minimal warmth.

As he walked, Q wondered where he was and just what sort of person would sew a woman's mouth closed. But then again, what sort of woman had feathers growing out of her skin? He shuddered and shook off the feeling; clearly he'd ended up in some sort of nightmare world. Clearly the comfortable reality that he'd known was a thing of the past.

The path ahead was blocked by a portcullis with no visible means of opening it. The last door he tried opened easily under his hand. The room beyond was lit by lamps and a flickering candelabra on table beside a large old-fashioned key; the sounds of someone playing the cello filled the room. Q halted, the door half-open. Someone was in there.

Carefully easing the door open, Q poked his head around the door and tried to see if he could spot whoever was in the room. It was a music room, judging by the piano set up in the corner, but there was no one to be seen. Q squeezed into the room and quietly shut the door behind him. The key might be useful. If he was lucky, he'd be able to sneak in and grab it and get out without alerting the unseen musician to his presence.

A balcony ringed the room and Q edged along the wall, trying to get close enough to the key to grab it without coming into sight out of the balcony. Unfortunately, that didn't work too well, as there was no way to grab it without stepping out into the open.

Taking a deep breath, Q hurried over to the table, reaching out for the key.

The music came to a screeching halt; the bow skittering across the strings in a cacophony of notes.

Jerking around, Q tried to catch sight of whoever was in the room with him, but all he could see were the marble carvings of the balcony's railing. He backed up against the table, the candelabra and key rattling as he did.

“Q, my darling! How wonderful to finally meet you!” A man's voice echoed from somewhere overhead, sounding like it was coming from everywhere at once.

Fumbling behind him, Q found the heavy candelabra and slid it forward. The rough slide of the metal on wood was almost grating in the heavy silence in the room. Still, Q felt a little better once he was armed.

“Oh, you won't be needing that, my dear,” the voice said. It was silky smooth and low, laying heavy emphasis on the endearment. “Q, oh Q, you have no idea how long I've waited for you to come to me.”

“Who's there?!” Q held the candelabra in front of himself defensively, hot wax spilling out over his hands as the candles flickered out.

“That's unimportant. What matters is that you're here now, Q, and that since you are... you _**will**_ be mine.” The man broke out into wild, uncontrolled laughter, which was cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut.

Clutching the candelabra tightly in shaking hands, Q willed his heart to come out of his throat and for it to stop racing. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down, waiting to be sure that the man had left. After several long minutes spent with his blood racing in his ears, he slowly lowered the candelabra back onto the table and grabbed the key. Q would have preferred to take it with him, but it was too heavy to carry with him with any ease.

Q weighed the heavy key in his hands, noting that there was something etched onto the shaft of the key. Holding it up to the light and closer to his face, Q realized that it read 'garden'. Maybe it was for that door he'd passed on his way? The one by the ladder?

There wasn't anything else of use in the room, and the only thing in the drawers of the chest in the corner was slightly molded sheet music. Q looked around the room one more time, skin prickling with the sensation that he was being watched and hurriedly left.

Retracing his steps, Q walked back along the path through the castle until he came to the door flanked by the statues of woman. The door was locked, but it matched the key he had so he slid it into the lock and turned it. The door opened with a quiet click.

A bright light at the corner of Q's vision caught his attention, and he turned to see what it was.

The first thing Q thought was that it was a firefly, but the glow was too bright and unnatural – there was a faint purple tint to it. It floated slowly around the corner and bobbed in place for a few seconds before making its way towards Q. As it grew closer, Q realized that it was simply a ball of light – there was nothing inside of it.

Not wanting to find out what it was or what it might do, Q pulled the door open and hurried inside, slamming it closed behind him. He winced at the loud noise and hoped that it wouldn't attract any attention. Q leaned against the door, breathing shallow as he listened carefully. After several long minutes passed with no noise, he moved away from the door and further into the hallway.

The hall curved around a door to a flight of shallow stairs. Investigating the door was pointless because, not only was it locked, but there wasn't a handle to open it. There was a hook of some kind on the door that Q thought he might be able to use as a handle if he could find something to attach to it since pulling on it didn't have any result.

Giving up on the mysterious door which wouldn't open, Q continued on down the hallway and towards the stairs. It was a short flight of stairs down into another level. The only things of interest were a locked storage room down a narrow set of stairs and another door that led into a kitchen.

Q wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of herbs and cured meat as he stepped inside. There was a pot on the stove full of water, but the stove wasn't turned on. He was once again presented with two choices: a narrow passage led one way while a door was set on the other side of the kitchen.

The passage led down into the kitchen's basement store rooms. Here, Q could smell the scent of rot and mould and he gagged – doubling over and covering his nose and mouth with his hand. He quickly withdrew from the room, shutting the door as he did. He gasped for breath, taking in the clean air of the kitchen free from the stench of rotting meat.

Trying the other door, Q was relieved when it led out into a dining room. The table was set for service, and there was a raging fire in the fireplace, while all the candles had been lit. A large picture window offered what had probably once been a stunning view of the castle grounds. The heavy red velvet curtains with their golden fringe were clogged with dust that flaked off when Q touched them.

There wasn't anything of any real interest in the room and the door which led from it, only to find that it led to a sitting room decorated in bright reds and dull golds. Much like the curtains in the dining room, the furniture was covered with a thick layer of dust.

Given that there wasn't anything of interest there either, Q left and headed back towards the kitchen. As he entered, he noticed that the stove had been turned on and that there was suddenly someone in the kitchen with him.

The bird-woman was staring at the pot on the stove, her fingers spread like deadly talons at her sides. She was staring so intently at the pot that she hadn't noticed Q enter the kitchen.

Pressing his back against the wall, Q slowly began to inch his way along. He hoped that the woman didn't notice him and that he could sneak past her without being spotted. But given how his luck had been, it didn't hold. The toe of Q's boot caught on a loose stone in the floor and he stumbled, scraping his palm on the wall.

The bird-woman spun around, dark eyes wide and wild. Her hair swung around her like a curtain and she stared at Q with eyes framed with dark feathers. With her taloned hands, she reached towards him, stretching them over the counter separating them. Blood welled from around the stitches holding her lips closed as the flesh tore.

Jerking back against the wall, Q stared in horror before his flight instinct kicked in and he raced for the door. The woman had already launched herself over the counter and if Q hadn't been in such a panic, he might have stopped when he realized that the woman had sprouted _**wings**_ for a brief moment. Instead, that just made him run faster.

The uneven flagstone of the stairs made him stumble, and Q ended up emerging from the stairway with a good collection of shallow scrapes on his palms. Emerging into the hall, Q continued to run down the hall until he tripped over _**something**_ and nearly slammed his head into the ground. Q caught himself on his hands, adding to his collection of scrapes and bruises.

He heard the familiar shuffle and whimper of the bird-woman and hastened to get back on his feet, which were unsteady under him and he tripped again. Adrenaline was coursing wild and freely in his veins and he managed to get up just as a deceptively slender but strong hand grabbed his ankle and pulled his legs out from under him.

Q crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, lashing out as best he could. He managed to land one good solid kick in, forcing the woman to let him go and he scrambled back along the ground. He needed space, he needed to get up, he _**needed to run**_.

“Vesper! Leave him be!”

It was the same male voice as before, the one that made Q's blood run cold. The bird-woman – Vesper – froze in place, one clawed hand reaching towards Q. Her dark eyes were wide and there was a touch of fear in them; she recoiled back from Q and the voice, feathered and bandaged arms wrapping themselves tightly around her torso as though they'd protect her.

“You've got places to be, Vesper. I suggest you follow your orders and leave our dear Q alone. You wouldn't want to displease the master now, would you?”

Vesper drew back, eyes impossibly huge like dinner plates. The feathers on her arms multiplied and she drew back, head shaking back and forth. She scrambled to her feet, backing away slowly and retreating back towards the kitchen.

Watching her go, Q felt a strange feeling of pity and fear curdling in his stomach. He swallowed, hard, and scrambled back to his feet.

“I must apologize for Vesper, Q.” A man dressed in a drab set of black clothes stepped out from where he'd been lurking beside the door. “Please, allow me to introduce myself – I am the keeper of this castle, Dominic.”

He bowed and Q saw the smallest of smirks on his lips as he straightened; he still couldn't make out the man's face, given that it was hidden under the darkness of his hood. He held out his hands, gesturing at the castle walls, “Given that M and your father are dead, you are the sole heir of Quantum Castle and its generous grounds.”

Dominic took a step towards Q and Q took one backwards. He looked Q over from his feet to his head, eyes lingering in some places and Q felt chills run up and down his spine.

Tilting his head to the side, Dominic continued, “Shame about the accident, really... but it's a pleasure to see that M chose to continue with the... unusual naming conventions of the family.”

_Accident...?_

Q took another step back. _He remembered that there was light, bright light. There was a car that appeared, speeding past them and swerving suddenly, forcing his father to swerve and then there was a wall approaching coming towards them – it was too fast there was no avoiding it. Everything exploded into bright light._

A feeling of light-headedness seized Q and he grabbed his head, knees shaking as he tried to keep standing. There was a rush of emotions – _fear, panic, worry, what would happen? Was he going to die? Were they all going to die?_

That was his last thought as consciousness abandoned him.

– –

When Q opened his eyes, he was staring up at the slightly blurred ceiling of the guest room and the sound of the ticking grandfather clock filled his ears. There was a dull ache thudding between his eyes in time with his heart. Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, he pressed the butt of his hand against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the pain.

Behind his eyes, there were several quick flashes of images and impressions. _A man. A man in a dark brown cloak leaned in, reaching towards him. His lips pulled up in a sinister smile but his eyes were in shadow from the hood. There was blood. So much blood... dripping onto his hand. His father was–_

Q's eyes flew open and he took a shuddering breath. That was...

He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand beside the bed, putting them on and throwing the covers aside to climb out of bed. His boots were neatly lined up on the floor and Q tried not to think about the fact that someone had stopped to take the time to take them off and tuck him in.

Whoever that man had been, Q desperately hoped that he wouldn't run into him again. Something about him was just... off.

Pulling his boots back on, Q stood up and glanced at the clock. It was a little past six. Had he really been out that long? It hadn't felt like it.

The guest room looked exactly the same as it had hours ago when he'd first stumbled in, except the sheet he'd been wearing then had disappeared. The maid probably had something to do with that, although Q hadn't seen any sign of her for some time. Which was good, because everything about this castle and its inhabitants were _**really**_ creeping him out.

A high whining noise broke through the static ticking of the clock and Q shot up, looking around to try and find the source of it. He heard it again, only this time he realized it sounded somewhat muffled – was it coming from outside?

Approaching the large bay window on the lower level of the guest room, Q looked out at the gardens of the castle. That was when he noticed the large grey-white shape at the base of the tree.

“What the...”

He blinked and stared, realizing that the shape was actually a dog. It was hunched over, neck twisted at an odd angle and shaking its head back and forth. Q watched it for a few moments before it collapsed to the ground, making the same high pitched whine as before.

The first question that popped into Q's head was to wonder what a dog was doing here, because the only signs he'd seen of animals so far had been the crows overhead and the skeletal remains of several small mammals. The second question was wondering why the dog was there now when it hadn't been there before. Still, it was hard to ignore those loud whines it was making; the least he could do was check to make sure that it was alright. No one here was clearly up to the task of taking care of it.

The door leading outside was unlocked, much to Q's relief. He'd been slightly anxious about whether or not the doors would be locked when he tried them. The guest room might have been a marked improvement from the dungeon he'd first woke up in, but it was still a cell nonetheless. Any amount of freedom, small as it might be, was appreciated.

He took the stairs a little quicker than was natural. With each step, the whining seemed to get louder; sounding more and more like pained whimpers the closer he got. He was almost running when he reached the last couple steps and jogged over towards the dais where the dog was.

This close, Q realized that it was most _**definitely**_ not a dog. It was far larger than any dog he'd ever seen and the muzzle was too long, making it look far more predatory. It's fur was a grey that faded to white over the face and the dark red of blood around its neck was a stark contrast.

The dog was no dog, Q realized; it was a wolf. And a very large one at that.

As Q edged a little closer, the wolf's eyes snapped open and bared its fangs in a growl. Its eyes were unusual – a deep icy blue – and it glared at Q, though it didn't raise its head or move to take him down.

The reason for that was the length of knotted barbed wire looped around its neck in the cruel mockery of a collar. A glint of silver chain ran the length from the collar to a stake driven into the ground near the base of the tree.

The wolf gave another growl, shifting almost involuntarily and making a sharp noise when the wire dug further into its neck. Blood splashed to the ground, dripping from the numerous punctures in the animal's neck. It eyed Q warily, keeping its fangs bared.

Holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture, Q slowly stepped forward. He really hoped that he'd live to not regret this.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Q said, trying for the most reassuring voice he could manage. Really, this was probably the stupidest thing he'd done in the past several hours – or even in his entire life – because approaching a trapped wild animal was just asking to be clawed to death.

Still, it would be even crueler to leave it here, especially in the state it was in. The dark collar of blood around its neck was a testament to that. Whoever could sew a woman's mouth shut wasn't going to give much thought to wrapping a length of barbed wire around an animal's neck for their own amusement.

Slowly, Q took a few carefully measured steps forward, keeping his hands up and in front of him. The wolf didn't growl, but followed his movements with shadowed eyes – there was an intelligence there that felt almost _**human**_.

“I'm only going to remove the collar.” Folding his legs under him once he was close enough, Q very gently laid a hand on the wolf's head. It growled once, looking at him as though daring him to hurt it; Q smiled.

“Try not to move or you're only going to make this worse.”

He had to part the bloodied fur in order to get a better sight of the wire wrapped around the wolf's neck. It hadn't dug in too much, but he could make out lacerations in the skin below which were caked with dried and fresh blood. The wolf had put up quite a struggle to free itself.

The knot holding the wire together was a crude one, but it took Q several long minutes of pricking his own fingers and fiddling with it before he managed to loosen it. Unfortunately, the end of the wire had embedded itself into the wolf's skin and Q was wary of pulling it out.

He ran his hand absently through the wolf's fur, trying to comfort it before what he knew would happen.

“The wire's stuck in the skin, I'm going to have to pull it out.”

Why was he even talking to the wolf? It wasn't like it was going to answer him. He was obviously slowly losing his mind.

One of the wolf's ears twitched, and it growled shortly. Its claws dug into the ground as though it was bracing itself for the pain, but that was probably just the work of Q's overactive imagination.

Bracing one hand on the wolf's back, Q took hold of the wire and pulled. It came out easily and more blood splattered to the ground. The scent of it was so strong that Q wrinkled his nose and shook his head. His fingers were slick and sticky from it as he fumbled to pull it through the knot and undo it.

Under his hand, Q could feel the wolf shuddering, but it made no sound. He stroked the fur, an almost unconscious gesture as he pulled the wire free. He looped his arm under the wolf's neck in order to pull it free. He tossed the wire aside and let out a deep sigh.

The wolf shot up onto its feet once it was free and Q froze. He'd been so caught up in helping it that he hadn't thought of what would happen after. _Shit._ He was going to–

Cocking its head to the side, the wolf licked his cheek. The rough tongue dragged against his skin and left it wet. Despite the fangs, it almost looked like it was smiling.

Q stared at the wolf for several seconds, then reached up and wiped the saliva off his cheek. “Stop acting like a dog.”

The wolf barked quietly, licking Q again.

Mindful of its wounds, Q grabbed at the fur behind its shoulders and tried to hold it off. He couldn't stop the flutter of laughter rising in his chest, “Stop that!”

Almost as though it was a dog and not a wolf that could easily tear Q apart, the wolf nuzzled under his chin in a gesture of affection and rumbled softly. The sound was rather soothing and Q relaxed, smiling just a little. His arms remained around the wolf's shoulders in a loose hug.

Q wasn't too sure how long the two of them stayed there like that, but he was just grateful to be in the warm presence of something that, refreshingly, _**didn't**_ want to kill him. Eventually, though, he pulled back and ruffled the wolf's fur behind its ears.

“I'll take that as a thank you.” Q looked over the wolf; something would need to be done about the blood. He was sure he'd spotted a wash basin of water in the guest room. There was a small amount of relief when Q realized that, somehow, he'd managed to avoid getting any blood on his tunic.

“Are you going to be coming with me then?”

He was talking to a wolf. He'd lost his mind. Or he'd somehow found himself in a Disney movie. A really, really twisted one.

The wolf's ears twitched forward and it dipped its head.

Definitely a Disney movie; he was communicating with animals and they were communicating right back.

“You need a name, though,” Q said.

Tilting its head to the side, the wolf studied him for several seconds and Q felt suddenly _**naked**_ under its gaze. It felt as though it was looking right through him.

Then, the wolf leaned forward, nudging at the dog tags around his neck with its nose. Q shivered at the damp press of it against his bare skin. He glanced down then back up at the wolf.

“What? _That's_ your name?”

Maybe it was someone's pet? That would explain things. It could probably smell the dog tags. Maybe its owner had a strange sense of humour about pet collars or something.

“James.”

The wolf – _James_ – perked up immediately. Despite the wounds and the obvious pain he must be in, he seemed excited. He nuzzled up to Q against and licked his cheek before letting his large head rest in Q's lap, eyes closed as Q ran his fingers through the fur.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Q smiled. He finally had an ally in this twisted place.

Eventually, though, Q's legs started to go numb from the cold and how they were uncomfortably folded underneath him. Brushing his fingers one last time through James's fur, he carefully pushed himself to his feet.

“You wouldn't know a way out of this place, would you?” Q asked, staring at the drying blood on his hands. He thought about wiping them on his leggings, but if they did manage to escape there and found help, he didn't really want to explain the blood. 

He frowned. “Better clean this up first...”

James growled softly in response, nudging Q's leg. He automatically moved in front of Q as they began to make their way back towards the guest room. Once inside, Q made sure that he locked both doors before heading to the wash basin laid out on the table alongside a neatly folded pile of cloths.

It only took a minute or two for Q to wash and dry his hands. He dampened one of the cloths and turned to James, “Come here, I'd better clean that blood out of your fur before it dries.”

Walking over, James settled down beside Q as he began the slow process of washing the dried blood out of James fur. It was a painstaking process, and a very slow one too, since Q was trying very hard to make sure that he didn't pull out any of James's fur or cause him any discomfort. When he got down to the skin, he was surprised that the wounds weren't as serious as he'd assumed that they were. All that remained were thin, angry red lines that ran around his neck.

As he tossed the bloodied cloth back into the bowl and ran his fingers through James's damp fur, he murmured, “Just what are you...?”

Obviously, James heard him, tilting back his head as his ears twitched. He stared at Q with those too blue eyes that looked oddly human despite his wolf's face. As though he could read Q's thoughts, he leaned forward and bumped his damp nose against Q's.

Q smiled, “Thanks. Now, let's get out of here.”

James barked, hopping back up to his feet and loping over to the door to wait for Q. Unlocking the door, the two of them wandered back out into the castle grounds. The creak of a metal gate caught Q's attention and he looked down, realizing that the gate which had been locked before was now hanging open.

“You know how to get out of here?” Q asked.

Nudging Q's leg, James started down the staircase. Q easily kept pace with him, but James remained half a body ahead of Q, like he was a bodyguard of some kind. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about what might happen if he ran into Vesper again...

James led him down a winding path along the exterior of a castle and over a bridge that stretched over a dried up moat which led to the castle gate. He loped over to the gate, sniffed at it, and growled. Jogging over, heart swelling in hopeful anticipation, Q grabbed the handle and pulled.

The gate did not budge.

“Damn it!” Q slammed his fist against the heavy wooden gate, which only made his hand throb dully from pain. He knew that this was too good to be true. Pressing his head against the gate, he made an angry noise, punching it again.

James whined and nuzzled at his hand, licking his fingers. Q brushed his fingers through James's fur, scratching at the wolf's ears.

“Sorry. I just... don't want to be here anymore.” He cast a rueful, angry look at the gate and kicked it for good measure. “Guess we'll have to find another way out of here then.”

As they returned to the castle, James stopped by a heap of rubble. He sniffed the ground and then lifted his head, sniffing the air. He barked, racing up the pile of rubble to the top.

Q ran up to the base of it, “James, what are you–”

Jumping from the top of the rubble heap to the ground, James dropped a wooden marionette on the ground at Q's feet. Q stared at the marionette and then at James, confused. James nudged it towards him further, so he bent over to pick it up. Once it was in his hands, James gently nipped at his leg and headed off. Unsure of what was going on, Q trailed after him with the puppet in hand.

James seemed to have no problem navigating his way through the twisting halls and paths of the castle. He growled at one or two doors, nudging Q away from them as he led him towards the door with the hook that Q had seen earlier.

Looking from the puppet to the hook on the door, Q resisted the urge to slam his face into his palm, “Since when was life ruled by video game logic?”

Still, there wasn't much else that could be done except hang the puppet on the door. Much to his surprise – well, not really – the door unlocked with a soft click. Pushing it open, Q looked around and winced. There were dolls nailed to the walls with large iron spikes. Most of the spikes were rusted almost all the way through.

James butted his head against the back of Q's knees, urging him into the room. Q glared at him.

“Stop that.”

If James had been a human, Q swore he would've been laughing and rolling his eyes. Instead, he made an amused huffing noise that sounded very much like laughter. Q ignored it and took a closer look at the room.

“What is it with this place and multiple paths?”

Again, the room was divided. One of the paths was blocked by a large wooden gate while there was a metal plate of some sort carved with intricate designs and patterns. The wall beside it was covered with clay eyes that stared unseeingly at the opposite wall. Across from the eyes, the wall was embedded with jagged iron stakes that gleamed in the dim light.

James was sniffing along the floor, skirting along the edge of the metal plate. Q walked towards him, wondering if he'd found anything. Before he could get any closer, though, James growled and pushed Q back, away from it.

“What–”

He got the wolf equivalent of a hard look. James turned back and deliberately pressed one paw down on the metal plate. There was a loud grinding noise and, with loud thuds, iron spikes were embedded in the walls – still quivering with momentum.

“Oh.”

If wolves could look smug, James certainly did.

Q shot him a sharp look; he was _**not**_ taking lip from a wolf. “Smartass. I don't suppose you know a way around this?”

James simply stared at him, sitting down on his hindquarters as he did as though to say 'I have no bloody idea'. It was entirely unhelpful, in Q's opinion. He sighed and turned back to the situation at hand.

The pressure plate extended all the way from one side of the hall to the other, leaving no way around it. Given that the eyes were dotted along the wall from the ceiling to the floor and all the way to where the wall turned, there was no safe blind spot to exploit. Not even James would’ve been able to slip past. But this was the only way forward that Q had found…

He backtracked towards the door, looking at the wooden bars which blocked the path. On the other side, he could see a lever and what looked like an old control mechanism.

“James, stay here,” Q said.

James looked up at him, head tilted to the side and bemused blue eyes looking up at Q. He sat down on his hindquarters, tail wrapping around his paws.

Turning back to the bars, Q turned sideways and slowly slid through them. It was an incredibly tight fit that required more than a little wiggling for Q to get through, but he managed. The hem of his tunic caught on the rough wood and tore, the sound loud in the near silence of the room. Once he was through, Q looked down and sighed, ripping the rest of the snagged fabric off.

The control panel was old and almost completely rusted over, covered in a thick layer of dust that was many years old. Beside it, the lever was glowing a dull silver in the faint light of the lamps. Wrapping his fingers around it, Q felt the cool metal and pulled it down with some effort. It made a sharp shriek of protest as he did, which made Q wince. How could anyone not hear that? But that was followed by the rumble of gears and a soft click.

He looked over his shoulder at James, “It should be safe now. Unless you think otherwise.”

James was rather hesitant, pressing a paw down on the pressure plate. It didn’t move. It was only after that little test did he cross the plate to join Q.

The door out of the room led out into what Q would’ve thought was the main foyer of the castle. A grand staircase dominated the room, winding up from a central staircase, splitting in two and ringing the room. The door they’d exited was tucked under the staircase. Despite the aged grandeur of the room, it looked cold and unused; the banisters were clean and polished, but the carpet was old and worn with more than a few holes at its edges.

However, what caught Q’s attention was the old phone sitting on a table on the other side of the room. It was under a large painting of a strangely familiar man clothed in centuries old dress. Q didn’t linger on his face for long. The phone was more important.

His fingers closed around the cool, ivory handle of the phone as he raised it, hands falling automatically to dial the familiar emergency number, but there was no dial tone. The line was completely dead. Cursing, Q dropped the phone back onto the receiver. He crossed his arms and glared at it, as though it was responsible for him being trapped in this hell in the first place.

“I’m afraid no help is coming for you… Q.”

Q jumped, spinning around and backing up against the table. He looked around, frantically trying to find the source of the voice. He couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. It sounded as though it was coming from everywhere at once and like it was whispering into his ear. The voice brought with it a crushing presence, Q broke out into a cold sweat and pushed his glasses back up his nose with shaking fingers

James had jumped in front of him, fur bristling as he snarled. His ears stood straight up as he crouched low, ready to pounce on this unseen foe.

“I see you found a pet. Very good… very good. I shall not harm you, Q, I simply bring you a warning: Do not trust Dominic.”

The presence faded just as suddenly as it appeared. Q heaved a deep breath, grabbing the edges of the table in a tight-knuckled grip as he fought to keep his shaking legs from giving out on him. His heart was racing wildly in his chest, a chill setting in as the adrenalin faded. James nudged at his knee with his wet nose and Q let his legs give out, wrapping his arms around James’s thick, furry neck and breathing in deeply.

The smell of James’s fur was familiar. It reminded him of the forest his parents had taken him to once when he was very young. He hadn’t really enjoyed it, but his father loved the outdoors and his mother always demonstrated a fond exasperation towards that particular interest of his father’s. There was also something else there, something sharp and unique to James; it was certainly not the smell of wolf.

James’s tongue flicked out, licking the edge of Q’s ear as though to say ‘don’t worry, I’m here’. It worked wonders at calming Q’s tremouring nerves.

Even once he’d calmed himself down, Q felt cold as the sweat dried and he shivered. Still, remaining where he was wasn’t safe. He could hear a familiar shuffling noise coming from one of the halls. Vesper was still on the prowl, looking for him. He pushed himself back up onto slightly shaking feet and stumbled the first few steps until he caught himself enough to make it up the stairs without falling over.

Three doors greeted him, two leading off to what he guessed were opposite wings of the castle and the last was a huge arched door decorated with some kind of symbol. His shoulder lit up with a flare of burning pain that faded the moment he looked away from the symbol, hand pressed over it.

“Wh… what…?”

There was no blood on his hand when he pulled it away from his shoulder, which didn’t surprise him at all. James nudged him, nuzzling against his hand. Q sighed, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired. He just wanted this too end, it was much more than he could ever say he could handle.

He looked down at James, “I’m beginning to really wish that you could talk.”

James made that huffing sound that resembled a chuckle, tail wagging. He trotted ahead of Q, tail high and swishing back and forth.

The loud sound of a body hitting a door jerked Q back into awareness. This was no time to be standing around, he hurried after james and towards one of the doors that, hopefully, would lead them somewhere away from the castle’s murderous and strange inhabitants. If they were lucky, they might even find an exit.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this castle had over a dozen secret passages leading out of it,” Q remarked almost absently, pulling open the door. It led out onto a balcony that ringed the castle, creating a winding path that turned a sharp corner some distance ahead.

James tilted his head and then promptly _**nodded**_ his head. Q made another tick on his mental tally sheet of “I must secretly be a Disney princess,” and continued on the path after closing the door carefully behind him.

The path led towards a wooden door painted a bright red. The metal plate on the door read ‘Nursery’ and there was a doll suspended above it in a cage. The cage was almost completely rusted through, and the doll wasn’t in great shape either. It’s clothes were tattered and caked in dust, the colours having faded; it’s head was lolling to one side at an extremely awkward angle - Q guessed that the only thing holding the head in place was the doll’s ragged clothes.

Q really didn’t want to open the door, but going back wasn’t an option. Vesper was there, possibly waiting for them, leaving forward as the only way to go. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

What he noticed first was the smell. It was a sickeningly sweet smell that had Q’s eyes watering as he doubled over, clasping a hand over his mouth. It was so strong that he could actually _**taste**_ the odour.

Beside him, James hadn’t fared much better. He recoiled as though something had struck him. He was growling and his ears were folded back flat against his head while he growled from deep in his throat. He actually backed up and out of the room and back onto the walkway, trying to find air that wasn’t tainted by the horrible smell.

Knowing that there was no way back, Q sucked in one deep breath. He kept his hand firmly over his nose and mouth, cautiously taking one sliding step into the room. There was a rhythmic creaking sound coming from the room and Q looked towards it and froze. He had to choke back the urge to vomit.

Slumped over in the nursery’s rocking chair was a corpse.

The flesh had almost completely rotted away, but the clothes that still clung to the skeleton were obviously those of a woman. Her body sat slumped over in the chair, skeletal hands laying in her lap. The creaking was the sound of the chair, rocking back in forth from the light breeze coming through the cracked window.

Everything in the nursery, including the skeleton, were coated in a thick layer of dust. No one had been in here in a very long time. Q didn’t dare approach the crib which lay against the far wall under the window; he was afraid of what he might find within.

The door on the other side of the room looked promising, though, so Q ran across the room, nearly slamming himself against the door as he did. He wrenched it open and stumbled out into the hall beyond, gasping and taking in huge gulps of air untainted by the scent of decay. James joined him shortly after and Q closed the heavy wooden door behind them.

Leaning against the door, Q sagged to the floor. Just how many more dead bodies were they going to find? Were they all going to be in that state?

James patiently waited for him, laying his large, furry head in Q's lap. Stroking the coarse fur steadied Q's nerves and he tried to put what he'd seen behind the walls he'd had to erect since he got here. Now was not the time to panic; he needed to find a way out – for the both of them. Pulling himself together, Q pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his legs, straightening his tunic as he did.

The hallway was a long, winding one that seemed to snake through the entirety of the castle for how long it took them to come to its end. There was just one door at the very end. The handle was old, rusted, and looked as though it would fall off at the lightest touch.

Q wrapped his hand around it and turned it, the door opened easily even as the handle shrieked in protest. The room beyond was lit by moonlight that filtered in through the long, glass windows set into the stone walls of the tower. The doorknob snapped off in Q's hands.

“How useful.” Q dropped the broken off knob onto the floor, noting that his hand was now covered in a thick coating of rust. He sighed and wiped it off as best he could. “This just keeps getting better...”

A long staircase led down from where they were, close to the top of the tower. It was hard keeping his bearings, but Q guessed that they were somewhere near the castle's walls.

The sounds of Q's footsteps echoed loudly in the silence of the room, as did the sound of James's claws clicking on the stone stairs. The wind whistled in through the cracks in the damaged glass of the windows. It was a long way down.

At the bottom, there was an array of beautiful, old instruments set up as though waiting for an orchestra to come and perform. Several of them were covered in thick layers of dust, but the grand piano at the centre shone faintly in the moonlight and the keys looked worn, but well-cared for.

There were also two more doors: one set deep into the stone just under the base of the stairs; the other was set into the opposite wall, just past the arrangement of instruments at the centre of the room. Q looked down at James.

“Which one leads outside...?”

James made a soft, sort of growling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head up and sniffing. He turned his nose closer to the ground, sniffing, before he relaxed and trotted over to the far door, nudging the handle with his muzzle. He barked quietly.

It made Q smile, just a little, “Sometimes, you know, I think you actually understand what I'm saying.”

Looking up at him with those too blue eyes, James cocked his head to the side, making a soft, almost inquisitive noise. He bumped his nose against Q's hand and then pointed it towards the door.

“Guess that means to hurry up,” Q sighed, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it.

Outside turned out to be some kind of, well, grotto. The stars above peeked through a large crack in the ceiling, while the sound of rushing water echoed loudly within its walls. Water gushed out through holes in the walls, splashing into pools on either side of the narrow walkway which led towards a shadowed door on the other side. Statues decorated the alcoves, each one of a beautiful nude woman with feathered wings, arms upraised as though to welcome a shower of water; several of them were missing their heads or arms.

Carefully, Q made his way along the walkway, trying to go in as straight a line as possible as the water threw off a mist that obscured much of it. It was also rather slippery, as he learned when he stepped on a loose stone coated in water and moss, nearly losing his balance and breaking his neck.

James steadied him, moving ahead of Q to lead the way. Q followed him as closely as was possible; he didn't want to know what might be lurking in those pools.

A ratty old curtain hung over the door, swaying slightly in an unseen breeze. Q brushed it aside and stepped into the room beyond.

The room was carved into the stone, rough hewn walls with a small cot set on one side. There were flickering candles set in small dishes and placed in the walls, throwing all much of the room into sharp and flickering relief. Some kind of altar had been set up along one wall, decorated with feathers and sheet music which was tacked the walls.

The feathers were the same shade of black as Vesper's.

At the centre of the altar was a statue of a winged woman, hands raised before her as though she was making an offering to some unseen divine entity. Hanging from the centre of the cave, towards which the statue's arms stretched there were a pair of disembodied arms stretching down, as though to accept its offering.

On closer examination, Q realized that there were words carved along the base of the statue and that a large, brass key lay at the base.

The words carved into the base read ' _All that comes to pass on the fertile earth, we know it all_ '.

“Is she a seer or something?” Q wondered. He didn't dwell on it for too long. The key seemed to be the only thing of any use in the room; the cot was nearly bare and the sheet music was ink stained and nonsensical to him.

James was sniffing around the cot and the walls, tense, tail straight. He seemed to be searching for something, but there was no sign that there was anything hidden within the room. It had no secrets to reveal to them.

“Find anything?” Q asked.

James shook his head, coming over to Q's side and already moving towards the exit. Q picked the key up, feeling the heavy weight of it in his hand, and followed. They ended up returning to the music room and the door there that they hadn't tried. It opened easily under Q's hand.

Beyond the door was another sitting room, this time with a theme of blue and silver. Dead flowers sat in a vase on one of the end tables, filling the room with a cloyingly sick scent. The vase sat beside a large, conic-shaped reflector. Another door was tucked away in the back, half-hidden behind a heavy blue velvet curtain. When Q got closer, he realized that the fittings on the door were brass, much like the key he had taken from the cave room, and the key more or less matched the lock.

He weighed the key in his hand before inserting it into the lock and turning it. The door unlocked with a soft click and Q pulled it open to reveal another long hallway.

“This place really is not lacking for its long, creepy corridors,” Q remarked, rolling his eyes. “They could sell it for a premium; the creepy corridors and dead bodies would be a great selling point.”

James looked at him. He had an expression of thorough exasperation on his face. Or at least he would if he was human and not a wolf.

The hallway led out to another tower, decorated with some strange objects that resembled telescopes – although it was obvious to Q that they were not at all telescopes – built on a swiveling base. There was a door decorated with the painting of a moon that was obviously locked, but had no place for a key. In the ceiling of the room, there was a hole above one of the objects, which let in a concentrated column of moonlight.

Upon a closer examination of the objects, Q realized that they were reflectors of some kind, except that the one which was directly under the column of moonlight was missing its reflector. That was what the reflector on the table in the previous room had been for.

Q pinched the bridge of his nose. Puzzles to move forward. Perfect, just perfect. Looking down at James, he sighed, “James, I need you to go back to the room we just came from and get the reflector off the table. Can you do that?”

James barked once, trotting off back towards the room they had come from. He returned a few moments later, the reflector grasped tightly in his mouth. He dropped it into Q's open hand.

Wiping off the drool off, Q set it into place. The beam of moonlight that resulted didn't line up with the others, but after several minutes of straining to swivel them all into place – Q would readily admit that he wasn't particularly gifted in the muscle department – but once they were all in place, the light fell upon the door.

There was a loud noise, like a gong being struck, and then the door slowly began to slide apart. It opened, revealing a long, dark path beyond. Most importantly, though, it led outside.

Outside wasn't much better than inside. The path was lined with dead trees, their blackened limbs reaching up towards the star-strewn sky. Along one side of the path, just beyond one line of trees, was the ivy covered wall of the castle; on the other, there was a rusted iron fence, then the high walls blocking off the castle grounds from the world beyond.

The path itself ended in front of the heavy wooden doors of a church. Above the huge oaken doors was a large stain glass window. Vines crawled up the walls of the cathedral, many of them having withered and died from lack of care. The church itself was old, imposing, and promised no sanctuary.

“We've come this far...” Q strode up to the doors with a confidence he wished he actually felt and pushed them open.

The church's interior was practically empty; the pews had almost completely rotted away, leaving nothing but piles of mostly-rotted wood where they had once stood. Above, there was a large and ornate crystal chandelier, anchored in place by a large chain. Where the altar should have been, there was instead a large statue of a goddess.

Her statue was carved out in black stone and, upon her head, there was a wreath of gemstone flowers that had the illusion of being braided into her dark hair. In her upraised hand, she held an unlit torch and in the other, lowered and fingers curled, there was another key.

To reach the key, Q had to scramble on top of the large, stone slab at the base of the statue. James remained on the ground, watching. His fingers curled around the key, pulling it from the goddess's grasp. He grinned. Success at last.

The doors of the church slammed closed. Q stumbled, nearly tumbling backwards off the slab and only catching his balance at the last moment. He whirled around and felt all the blood drain from his face.

Standing there, blocking the only way out, was Vesper.

Her dark eyes were wide, breathing heavy, and she was slightly hunched over. Arched up from her back were a large pair of black-feathered wings, which stretched up above her towards the vaulted ceiling. Her fingers ended in long, black talons – like those of a raven. She stretched them and Q could hear the bones popping; she reached up to claw at her neck and chin, then stretching out her bloodied hands towards Q.

Falling back, Q landed on his butt, narrowly missing impaling himself on the sharp ends of the iron fence that surrounded the statue of the goddess. The sudden movement startled Vesper, who withdrew sharply for a second before she flew at Q.

There was absolutely no way for him to avoid it. She was going to sink those long talons of hers into his neck and strangle him. Or she was going to tear his head off. Either way, he was going to die.

Except he'd forgotten about James.

James launched himself at Vesper with a snarl that made Q's blood run cold. His momentum, instead of being crushed against the ground himself, sent Vesper flying back and against the ground. His fangs sank into her shoulder and she let out a near soundless shriek of pain, her lips straining at the stitches; fresh blood welled up from the wounds.

She flung James off of her with a burst of strength that sent him flying. James hit one of the columns along the wall, falling to the ground with a pained whine, but pulled himself back to his feet. He stalked around Vesper, staying low to the ground, ears straight up as he growled, circling her.

Vesper made herself look huge, wings flaring up and out, arms at either side with claws bared. Her hands were like pale hooks, tipped in black talons and stained with blood. She looked as though she'd been feasting upon blood, for it had welled forth from her mouth so much as to hide the stitches. Still, she made no sound.

Although James had recovered, there was blood dripping from a wound on his side. Vesper much have caught him with her claws when she threw him.

Sliding off the slab and to the floor, Q crawled away from the confrontation and backed up agains the wall. He knew he had to do something, but what? He was unarmed and up against a supernatural being that could easily tear him limb from limb. James couldn't last long against her.

James acted first, lunging forward and sinking his teeth deep into Vesper's arm, pulling with all his strength. She stumbled, but didn't go down, and lashed out at him with her claws. James made a whimpering sound as they dug into the thick fur behind his neck, but he didn't let go.

Stumbling to his feet, Q knew that he could run, but he couldn't bring himself to leave James behind. He couldn't possibly leave his only ally – and dare he say _**friend**_ – beyond while he attempted to save himself. Besides, there was no guarantee that Vesper would be the last challenge that would need to be overcome. There was still that creepy maid and that hooded man; Q didn't know what their intentions were, but he knew they couldn't be good.

His hand hit a length of chain. Q snapped his head around and his jaw dropped open. The chandelier!

The length of chain holding it up was looped around a pulley, the rest of it coiled around a wheel, held in place by a large length of pipe that was shoved through it. Wrapping his hands around it, Q pulled. It budged a little, but not enough.

“Bloody hell,” Q grumbled, throwing all of his weight against it. It gave with a mighty creak. He was almost there!

“Fucking. Piece. Of. Balls.” Q pulled, planting one foot against the wall, and the pipe came out with a mighty sounding shriek. The chain almost immediately began to unwind, shooting upwards towards the ceiling.

James had Vesper pinned in place, directly below the chandelier. It gave with a might sounding crack and dropped about a foot, before it jerked to a halt. That only lasted for a few seconds before the entire crystal and iron contraption fell right on where James and Vesper were standing.

James leaped back before it could hit, but Vesper was not so lucky. She took the full brunt of the chandelier, collapsing to the ground underneath it.

She didn't move.

Breathing heavily, Q circled around towards James, ending up near the stone slab once more as his shaking knees finally gave out. James stumbled over, bleeding badly from a number of gashes along his neck and shoulders; there was a particularly nasty one where Vesper had managed to sink her claws in on his side. He was panting heavily, bloodied saliva dripping from his mouth.

He collapsed into Q's lap, who sank his fingers into the warm fur and stroked. Q wasn't sure who was trying to reassure more: himself or James.

All he could do was stare at Vesper, crumpled underneath the chandelier. Her hands had returned to normal, though the nails were still tainted black, and her wings were broken and bent on top of her. She didn't look as though she was breathing.

He didn't quite feel like moving right then. He just wanted to rest. If only for a little while, they could enjoy some peace.


	2. Requiem Aeternam

Q wasn't exactly sure how long they stayed there, but it couldn't have been longer than an hour at most. He'd been floating in a daze, half-asleep, when the sound of wrenching iron jolted him to wakefulness. James was on his feet in seconds, crouched low to the ground, growling, lips pulled back and teeth showing in a terrible snarl.

Vesper was dragging herself out from under the chandelier, her taloned hands digging large grooves into the stone floor. Once she'd dragged herself out, she trembled as her wings slowly merged back into her body in a shower of black feathers. She looked up at Q in a sharp, sudden movement with her wide, dark eyes and bloodied mouth. The stitches were almost invisible.

The two of them stared at each other. Q's heart had leapt into his throat, thudding wildly against his Adam's apple as his breathing came hard.

Ever so slowly, Vesper reached one shaking hand into the folds of her tattered dress and withdrew something. It glittered in the faint light. She tossed it into the space between them and it hit the ground with a clatter.

It was a pair of glimmering silver scissors.

With one long, taloned finger, Vesper pointed to the scissors and then her bloodied mouth. She made little snip-snip movements with her fingers.

“You... you want me to remove them?” Q said, voice shaking.

Vesper nodded vigorously, eyes still wide. The feathers that framed her eyes trembled, becoming more prominent, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards.

Q looked at James, who hadn't backed down from his tensed position. He growled at Vesper, stalking a little closer to Q; he was tensed to tackle her if need be. Q knew that if Vesper made one wrong move, James would take her down in an instant. He just didn't know if he'd _**survive**_ whatever move she made.

He looked back at Vesper, eyes narrowed, “How do I know if I can trust you?”

She blinked and reached inside her clothes again, withdrawing this time a large, heavy looking engraved key. She held it up to the light and offered it to Q as she pointed at the scissors and then her mouth with the other hand. The message was clear: He removed the stitches and she would give him the key. What door the key unlocked, he didn't know, but keys definitely meant progress.

Vesper then laid the key on the ground and pointed towards the statue of the goddess behind them. She then placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head, making a gesture that Q didn't recognize but it made James relax somewhat. But James was still wary.

“Are you saying you promise not to harm me or James?”

She nodded. Then she clasped her hands together and bowed her head low, as though to say 'please help me'.

Not seeing much of a choice – after all, Vesper was blocking the only exit – Q picked up the scissors with slightly steady hands. His first aide training was minimal at best, but he knew the basics about what to do. There was also the fact that Vesper was obviously not human, which meant that she _**probably**_ had a higher trauma resistance than he did, evidenced by how easily she had shrugged off James assault.

Vesper looked positively giddy, crawling forward and jutting her chin out. Her bloodied and stitched closed mouth was very prominent, but her dark eyes glittered and drew attention away from the trauma. Her hands were relaxed and pressed against the ground to support her weight. The talons had been pulled back, leaving them as jagged claw-like black fingernails.

James gently nuzzled Q's side, making a soft noise of comfort. He kept his muzzle dangerously close to Vesper's neck, just in case he needed to rip it out.

Taking a deep breath, Q raised the scissors and gently cupped Vesper's chin with his fingers with steady hands. He carefully positioned the scissors and things felt like they were moving in slow-motion as he snipped the first stitch. Neither Vesper or he flinched at the loud sound of old string being cut, but it was a horrible sound.

The string was so old and blood-stained that it was hard. It left muddied brown streaks on the blades of the scissors, which cut through the string with very little effort. But the sound was the worst. There were few stitches, but each one was loud and echoed in Q's ears.

With the stitches cut, Vesper's lips parted just a little. There was the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes, but she remained silent.

Q met her eyes, he knew what had to happen next, “This is going to hurt. Most likely a lot.”

Vesper looked at him, eyes hard, and nodded.

With careful fingers, Q pinched one end of the severed thread and pulled. The string caught and refused to come out, necessitating more force. The feeling of dragging the filthy, blood-stained string through flesh was nauseating and Q had to swallow hard to keep the bile down. He focused at the task at hand, blocking out everything else.

Pulling out the stitches was the worst part, as blood welled up from the open wounds and made it difficult and slippery to work. By the time he was halfway through, his fingers were stained with Vesper's blood and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on his skin.

Vesper was silent, making not a sound as Q worked the string out from her flesh. She swayed once or twice, from the pain or the blood loss, Q didn't know.

Finally, he eased out the last stitch, tossing the string to the ground and the small pile he'd created there. He pulled away, bloodied hands dropping to his side as he looked at his handiwork. Vesper's lips were swollen and bloody, but the stitches were gone. Vesper's mouth fell open, revealing pointed white teeth.

Slowly, she drew back, fingers touching her lips and smoothing over the wounds. Her eyes were wide but her mouth was turned upwards into a smile. The blood didn't seem to bother her as she smeared it over her face. She grinned at Q as she slowly pushed herself to her feet.

She held out the key, Q reaching out, and dropped it into his hand. Her smile was quite warm as her mouth opened and she said, “Thank you.”

Vesper looked upwards, towards the ceiling of the cathedral, and exploded into a mass of black feathers.

For several long minutes, Q simply stared at the mass of feathers as they fluttered to the ground where Vesper had been standing. Her voice had been quite lovely; like his mother's when she told him stories as a child, but different. It reached inside of him and spoke as though to answer every question that he had ever had. But all that remained of here were these feathers and the key she had given him.

Carved into the head of a key was a symbol of some kind, one which Q recognized after a few minutes as the symbol of Venus. The door for it must have been somewhere within the castle, which meant returning to that hell to find it.

Q sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Looks like we need to head back.”

James made a whining noise, falling into step beside Q as he stood up. The two of them began making their way back towards the castle and its myriad of hallways, doors, and rooms. The entire place was built as a maze, as though to trap anyone who stumbled into it.

“You wouldn't happen to know where this door is?” Q asked. “Or where we might be able to find it?”

James tilted his head up at Q, blue eyes as bright as shards of ice. He made a thoughtful humming noise, nose turned up into the air and he sniffed. He turned his head to the side, sniffing again, as they made their way back into the castle halls. They avoided the nursery, giving it as a wide berth as possible.

Past that door, James veered off down the hall and towards a heavy, old blue velvet curtain pulled over the stone wall. Q guessed that there was a window behind it, but James nudged it with his muzzle before ducking his head under it and pulling it slightly away and to the side, revealing a heavy, oaken door behind it.

“Well, that was easy.” Q grabbed the edge of the curtain and pulled it to the side, revealing the door. A large cloud of dust fell from the velvet and Q squeezed his eyes closed and scrinched up his nose, trying very hard not to sneeze. He failed.

In the centre of the door was a large metal plate with a burnished golden symbol of Venus carved into it. Q held up the key and pushed it into the lock and turned it. The lock clicked open and Q pushed the door open, peering inside.

The other side of the door was dark, there was the faint light of a lamp farther down the spiral staircase which led down from the door. He could just make out the stairs, which were narrow and quite well-worn. Q pushed the door open and stepped inside, James at his side. His boots were too loud on the floor, James darting a little ahead of him in case of danger.

Just as Q moved to follow, a band of iron fastened around his arm and jerked him back. The door slammed shut, cutting him off from James as he was slammed up against it. Q's head hit the door hard, dazing him, and his glasses slipped down his nose, almost falling off.

The maid leaned in, her pale face looked like one of those painted dolls that he'd seen in shop windows. Her eyes had that same vacant look as she stared at him, manner cold and surgical.

“You must eat,” she said in that same halting voice as earlier. She carefully enunciated each word, her emphasis a little strange. “Must... be healthy for the master.”

His blood ran cold at the mention of 'the master' and he felt chills run down his spine. He dug his fingers into the wood, shrinking back against it to escape from her. He had nowhere to escape from and he could feel and hear James clawing and thudding against the door behind him, the sounds frantic and wild.

“The master...” she said. “The master said... 'Severine, care for him, he is precious'... I will do this... the master... the master's word is law. The master made me, I must obey.”

She leaned in close, nostrils flaring as she dragged her nose along Q's jaw. Her breathing became heavy, laboured, and quick.

Q recoiled, fighting back a shiver of revulsion. He scrambled back against the door, trying to get away, but there was no way out. He tried to make a grab for the door handle, but one of the maid's – Severine – hands clamped down over his wrist, pinning it to the door and squeezing. Q made a sound of pain; he could feel his bones creaking in protest of her grip.

“Stop that!”

“Precious.... precious the master called you,” she said. “What is precious about you? I am perfect. The master created me to be the perfect woman. Yet, I am not precious. You have what I have not; I am not complete. Why?”

Q pulled, trying to work his wrist free, but it was to no avail. Severine simply strengthened her grip and Q had to bite his lip to stop from making a noise. The door was shaking behind him from the force of James hitting it.

“I will... I will,” Severine's head twitched, as though she was a ball-jointed doll. “I will be perfect. You will complete me. I will take it. I will be perfect.”

Her free hand ghosted down Q's chest, down towards his waist and he froze up. She couldn't possibly – her hand stopped, tensing and grabbing at his stomach. She began to claw at it, trying to tear through the fabric and the flesh there to get at the organs beneath.

Q reacted. He lashed out, kicking out at Severine's knees. He landed a good blow to one, crippling her and sending her to the ground. Severine's grip on his wrist loosened and Q was able to jerk free. He couldn't make it to the door, Severine had fallen to block it, and the only thing he could think of was to run.

He ran down the hall, turning around the corner and wrenching open the door to the nursery. The smell was just as awful as he remembered, but he ignored it and ran to the other side, pulling the other door open and running. He kept running until he found a small storage closet, stacked full of linen, along one of the walls, and squeezed inside. There was just enough space for him to squeeze into the back of the closet and crouch down behind the linens and hide.

His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as his breathing came in quick, heavy pants. He was gasping for breath and he couldn't catch it. Q felt light-headed and alone. Biting down on his lip, he tried to calm his breathing. He needed to be able to hear.

The steady clicking of Severine's heels on the stone floor was distinctive. It was measured, as though she had all the time in the world to follow him, to stalk him, and to tear him limb from limb.

What the hell was it that she wanted from him? How the hell was he supposed to 'complete her'? What was it that she wanted to take from him? He had nothing of value to take.

“Come out, precious... precious...” Severine called, still with her strange enunciations. “I will find you... I will find you. I will be complete.”

Q reacted. He lashed out, kicking out at Severine's knees. He landed a good blow to one, crippling her and sending her to the ground. Severine's grip on his wrist loosened and Q was able to jerk free. He couldn't make it to the door, Severine had fallen to block it, and the only thing he could think of was to run.

He ran down the hall, turning around the corner and wrenching open the door to the nursery. The smell was just as awful as he remembered, but he ignored it and ran to the other side, pulling the other door open and running. He kept running until he found a small storage closet, stacked full of linen, along one of the walls, and squeezed inside. There was just enough space for him to squeeze into the back of the closet and crouch down behind the linens and hide.

His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as his breathing came in quick, heavy pants. He was gasping for breath and he couldn't catch it. Q felt light-headed and alone. Biting down on his lip, he tried to calm his breathing. He needed to be able to hear.

The steady clicking of Severine's heels on the stone floor was distinctive. It was measured, as though she had all the time in the world to follow him, to stalk him, and to tear him limb from limb.

What the hell was it that she wanted from him? How the hell was he supposed to 'complete her'? What was it that she wanted to take from him? He had nothing of value to take.

“Come out, precious... precious...” Severine called, still with her strange enunciations. “I will find you... I will find you. I will be complete.”

Q held his breath, waiting for her to leave, praying that she wouldn't find him. Eventually, the clicking of her heels faded away, as did her strange mumbling. He waited several very long minutes that felt like forever until he felt safe enough to climb out over the linens and ease the door open enough to peek outside.

Glancing up and down the hall, the coast was clear. Severine was nowhere in sight.

Slipping out of the closet, Q gently closed it behind him and began to retrace his steps back towards where he'd lost James. Of course, that meant traversing the nursery again and Q wasn't too thrilled about that; it was bad enough to go through it once in a terrible panic, but to have to go through again? He shuddered at the very thought.

Still, he sucked in a deep breath when he reached the door and held his breath as he hurried through the room and to the other side. He inhaled deeply once he was outside, back in the hall, and walked down towards the Saturn door.

The key was still in the lock, but the door was now ajar.

Approaching it slowly, Q poked his head inside. The door was split and splintered with claw marks from James's scratching at it to try to get out. But there was no sign of James anywhere.

Opening his mouth to call out to him, Q heard the clicking of heels and the heavy thud of boots. His heart leaped up into his throat. He rushed past the door, pulling it closed just enough and tucking himself into a small alcove just beside it. Fear was rushing through his veins.

He waited, breath held and blood rushing with adrenaline.

“Where is he?!”

“He is not here.”

There was the loud noise of flesh hitting flesh. Then again. And again.

“Tell me where he is!”

Silence.

“He's _**mine**_ , woman. Do you hear me? I will not allow you or the old man to have him. He _**will**_ be mine. I will have him. Do you hear me? _**I will have him**_!”

The words echoed loud in the hall and the stairs, and loudly in Q's ears. They rung and the floor seemed to tilt, the world spinning around him. It took a lot of effort for Q to remain on his feet and try not to collapse to his knees.

There was nothing but silence for several minutes after that declaration. But eventually the heavy sound of boots thudding away in a huff broke it for the short time it took for them to fade away into the distance. Q didn't dare more from his hiding place, terrified that if he were to, Severine or the man – Dominic, his mind supplied helpfully – would come after him and take whatever it was that they wanted from him.

Severine eventually walked through the door, gently closing it behind her. She turned directly towards Q, but didn't see him in the dim light of the staircase as she turned and walked down the staircase, her heels clicking loudly on the stone steps as she went.

Her footsteps faded away soon enough, leaving Q behind with nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and thundering heartbeat.

He sagged against the wall, leaning heavily against it as he tried to catch his breath and calm his raging pulse. He was breathing heavily, light-headed and feeling like he was going to throw up. Q swallowed, hard, and fought back the urge; the smell would be certain to attract one of his pursuers.

A soft howl broke the silence and Q's head snapped up. That was James.

He stumbled back to his feet, clinging to the wall as he jogged down the stairs as quickly as he was capable of. The sounds of his footsteps were loud in the silence of the staircase and the echo was unnerving, still, he hurried onward.

The staircase ended in a long, dreary looking passageway that was lit by the faint light of several glowing lanterns. The creepiest thing about the lamps were that they were a sickly green glow, which made Q feel a little like he was underwater.

He kept expecting to see blood or bodies or cells lining the walls, but there was nothing there but the long, damp, corridor. Water was dripping down from the ceiling as it wound its way along, and there looked to be moss growing on many of the walls. James's howl echoed through it, giving it an eerie feeling.

Jogging along, he kept going, hoping that he would find James at the end of this hall and not Severine or Dominic. That was the last thing he needed.

The passage ended in yet another heavy, oaken door. It wasn't locked, so Q pulled it open, only to find himself faced with yet another spiraling stone staircase. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Another thing this place is in no short supply of...”

The staircase brought him up into a an old hallway, the walls hung with aged portraits of men and women in various styles of period dress. Each of them had dark hair and the same dark eyes that Q himself had. The floor was carpeted in a dust-choked and ancient carpet; moths had attacked it, leaving it full of holes and showing the dusty marble floors beneath.

The walls were paneled in what had, probably been at one point, glossy mahogany and an ancient, peeling wallpaper that had turned brown from age. Behind the wallpaper, there was rough sandstone, quite different from the walls of the castle. Wall scones lit the halls, surprisingly still working, although many of them were cracked and missing their coverings.

His examination of his new surroundings was interrupted when James came barreling, full tilt around a corner, skidding to a halt on the carpet and ripping several new holes in it with his claws. He bent his head, nuzzling at Q's hand and licking it.

Q raised his brow, “And just where have you been?”

James cocked his head to the side, nipping at Q's hand and tugging at his tunic lightly. He gestured with his head back towards where he'd come from.

“Found something then.”

The doors here were painted a shade of white that had yellowed with age, with decorative and heavy brass fittings. Under Q's feet, the floor creaked loudly. It would be impossible to be stealthy here. Where were they? It didn't feel like they were within the castle anymore.

Peeking out one of the large, lead glass windows they passed, Q could see the walls of the castle itself in the distance. However, the same heavy, thick walls still rimmed the grounds. He was still trapped; they might have escaped the castle, but they hadn't escaped its shadow.

As it turned out, what James had found was a small study. The walls were covered in bookcases full of aged tomes, written in countless different languages and marked with symbols. The shelves were coated with at least an inch of dust, aside from one specific shelf.

Q ran his fingers over the aged tomes, pulling out one which was titled Alchemic Essences. He opened it to a random page, which was covered with diagrams and symbols that Q couldn't decipher. He flipped through it, until he came upon a heavily dog-eared page which spoke of something called azoth.

Running his finger along the text, Q murmured softly, “... an elixir of life... known as the stone of the wise man... the solvent of life... ultimate medicine for the human soul...”

Q frowned, closed the book and set it back on the shelf, “This is what you wanted to show me?”

James huffed, turning towards a different shelf. He placed one large, gray-tinted paw on a large tome on the bottom shelf and pulled it down. There was a loud click, followed by the sound of gears working, and then the bookcase swung away from the wall, revealing a low, narrow passage beyond.

“Oh.”

Following James through the small passage, which required Q to hunch over, they came out to find themselves in an old bedroom. The wallpaper was peeling and every piece of furniture was caked in dust, including the bed, which made Q stumble back.

There was an ancient skeleton laying in the bed. It had crumbled into the covers, lying in a little pile of bones which was half-tucked under the sheets. Both the skeleton and the covers were covered in dust and there was the faint scent of decay in the air. Q covered his mouth with his hand and fought down the bile.

“I don't even want to know why there are so many dead bodies just lying around...” Q mumbled.

The bedroom door led out into another hallway that was virtually identical to the one that Q had found himself in earlier. This one, however, looked out onto a courtyard which back up against the perimeter wall and contained a graveyard, complete with mausoleum.

“From creepier to creepier.”

Checking the rooms along the hall, Q found little more than another key marked this time with the symbol of Saturn. Several of the bedrooms also contained skeletons, one of which still had the ragged remains of a dress clinging to the remains. There was a letter on the table near it, the parchment having yellowed and the ink faded from age. The letters were uneven, the woman who had written it had obviously been trembling when she wrote it.

' _To my family, I am sorry. To God, I offer my soul for his judgment and pray for Him to offer my dirtied soul salvation. No purgatory could compare to this hell I have been held in. I long for the wind in the trees and to feel the cool air on my face. I asked not for this. Perhaps I wished to one day become a mother, but I did not wish for this result. He has taken me over and over again, until his seed took root. It did not survive and now I shall face judgment. Please, God, have mercy upon me and grant me your forgiveness._ '

After that, the words trailed off, the pen dragging across the parchment, leaving a line of ink behind. The pen had dug into the table, then dropped to the ground. It lay not far from the crumbled skeleton; its skull lying a good several feet from the rest of it. The carpet was stained a faded dark brown.

They didn't stay for too long in that room. James found a small staircase hidden behind a statue that had been a passage for the servants when this building had been used. The first floor was even more neglected than the second floor had been; there were a number of laboratories along with a fairly modern operating theatre. Blood splattered many of the instruments and the furniture.

At the far end of the other wing of the manor, Q found the door which matched the Saturn key. The air that greeted him when he pulled the door open was hot and humid, quite different from the rest of the manor.

They'd found a greenhouse.

Unlike the reminder of the manor, the greenhouse had obviously been well-cared for. The plants were not overgrown, but carefully trimmed back and the planters were neatly maintained and, at present, were being watered.

Stepping into the greenhouse, Q looked up. The glass ceiling was grimy and made of leaded glass, but many plants extended upwards towards a walkway that hung overhead. Small sprinklers were going, spilling water out onto the stone walkways that lined the floor. Q nearly slipped, catching himself on the floor, his hand squishing against something.

He looked down. Under his hand, there was some white, root-like plant with a spray of leaves at the top. It had something that resembled a face.

“What the–”

It released an earth-shattering scream that had Q jerking away and clamping his hands over his ears to try and block out the sound. He could faintly hear the sound of James whimpering, but all that registered was the pain; it felt like his head was going to split open. He wanted to faint; anything to just make the sound stop.

Curling into a ball, tQ waited, struggling to stay conscious as the screaming continued. His glasses dug into the bridge of his nose and the arms dug into his scalp as he kept his hands tightly clasped over his ears. That was nothing but an irritation compared to the pain that the screaming caused.

After what felt like an eternity, the screaming faded away to nothing. Slowly, Q pulled his hands away from his ears. He felt woozy and unsteady; his entire body was violently shaking and he collapsed back to the ground when he tried to stand up.

James came up to him, gently bumping him with his nose and whining. His blue eyes were wide and he kept looking up towards the entrance. Q managed to turn around, shaking, and crawled backwards, mouth falling open.

Standing at the entrance, holding a fire poker in her hand, was Severine.

“I found you, precious...” She was grinning and the way it pulled at her face looked unnatural and forced, as though she wasn't quite used to expressing emotions. “Azoth... yes, I will have it... you will give it to me!”

She stumbled forward, the fire poker dangling from her hand like a baseball bat. James growled, jumping in front of Q and snarling at Severine. His fangs were bared, but Q was having a difficult time concentrating as his head was still ringing. His arms were shaking and it was difficult to keep himself even in a sitting position, but the adrenaline that was now pumping through his veins gave him strength.

When James lunged, sinking his teeth into Severine's arm, she didn't react at all. She simply looked bored, as though James was nothing more than a bother to her, even as he was nearly wrenching her arm from its socket. Her only reaction was to wind back her arm with the fire poker and bring it down on a wide arc on James's side with a tremendous amount of force. James made a high whimpering noise, but didn't let go. Severine brought the poker down again and again on James's side, beginning to giggle hysterically as she did.

Still shaking, Q stumbled back to his feet. Despite his unsteady footing, he ran at Severine, catching her arm and holding on as tightly as possible. It didn't do much good; she was far stronger than he was, catching him on the side with her poker as she threw him to the side.

He hit the stone wall of one of the planters with a loud noise, all of the breath being driven from his lungs. His head hit the wall much harder than was probably healthy and his vision swam. Black spots formed at the edges, gradually taking over his vision. He tried to say something, to yell, anything, but he was gasping for breath that wouldn't come.

Consciousness fled him rather quickly. He couldn't remember anything except that there wasn't enough air.

He couldn't breathe.

– –

The first thing that Q registered as consciousness slowly filtered back to him was that he was warm and something was wrapped around him. What he noticed next was that whatever it was that he was resting against was moving up and down in a rhythmic fashion and that there was a steady thud-tha-thump under his ear.

Blinking through his blurred vision, Q could make out a pale blur in front of him. Pressing his hand against it, he realized that it was skin. Beneath the skin was firm muscle, which tensed up at his touch but quickly relaxed.

_Someone was holding him in their arms._

He jolted back, but didn't get very far; the arms that held him were considerably stronger than him, and his panicked, half-blind flailing did nothing except land one blow to the face of whoever it was. That didn't do much, as their hands easily clamped down on both of his wrists, holding him still.

“Here.” The voice was male, rough, and very easily distinguishable from Dominic's. He didn't know the voice.

His glasses were held out to him, Q's fingers stumbled over them. They were shaking so badly that he couldn't quite get a good grip on them and unfolding them was beyond his skill at the moment.

Whoever owned the voice unfolded them, pushing them onto his face, “There you go.”

Q blinked. There was a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The man who was holding him was completely nude; there wasn't a single shred of clothing on him and he was quite unashamed of that fact. He sat cross-legged on the ground, Q settled in his lap and wrapped snuggly in the blanket.

What he noticed next was that the man had icy blue eyes whose intense stare was very familiar.

Q stared, taking in the full face of the man who he was very sure he knew. He found his voice before his brain had managed to catch up with the situation, “Oh, you're human too? I don't remember kissing you.”

James – because it really was James even if that made no sense whatsoever, but he had seen stranger things since he had stumbled into this place – smiled wolfishly. “I see that your wit is still intact.”

Q rolled his eyes, “What wit? I'm being completely honest here. Although, I had hoped that if I was to be kissing any cursed princes, they would have the decency to appear fully clothed.”

“I apologize for my less than princely appearance,” James replied, lips quirking up at the corner just a little. “But it's quite inconvenient to carry clothes around with me when I'm a wolf as well as it being highly suspicious, don't you think?”

There was a dry undercurrent of sarcasm to his voice, which Q noted was quite low and comforting. He sat with ease against the wall, which was rough dirt and stone, head tilting to one side.

“So, you're what? A shapeshifter? Some kind of science experiment?” Q pulled the blanket from around his shoulders and threw it at James. He looked away to hide the faint blush on his cheeks. “All of this would have been much easier if you were human from the start.”

James's eyes narrowed, “I'm a werewolf; not some cheap experiment like that woman. I was caught as a wolf; it's easier to keep up the illusion that that's all I am.”

“You were captured? What were you doing here in the first place? This hardly seems like the place for a werewolf to be haunting.”

“I smelled blood.”

“Blood?”

“There was an accident on one of the roads nearby,” James replied. He rubbed his fingers together almost absently. “There were no bodies, but there was a considerable amount of blood and a trail which led me here. I was caught in one of the many traps on the grounds, though it was quite fortunate for you that I was caught.”

“I suppose you have been quite useful.”

“Come now, I rescued you from that imitation human and brought you safely here. She refused to cross the threshold of this place; she left quite some time ago, muttering about azoth.”

“We're safe here, then?”

“For now, at least,” James replied. “That woman will prove to be quite a problem.”

“Why?”

“She has no scent. However, she did take a little tumble into some manure, so that solves that little problem.”

Q sighed, rubbing his temples. “That's not important; I just want to get out of here.”

“If we can find our way to the forest, we should be able to find out of here. There are scent trails to follow and my pack will be able to find us.”

“Pack.” Q blinked. His life just kept getting stranger and stranger; he had definitely been sucked into a video game, one where he was both the protagonist and intended victim. Except all of this was real, there was no button to hit to restart the level or the game. If he died, that was it – he was dead.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by James dragging the backs of his fingers down his cheek. Q winced, there was a bruise there from where he'd struck the wall, but the touch was comforting, warm, and surprisingly gentle.

“If you feel up to it, we should continue on,” James said, holding his hand to Q's face for a brief few seconds before dropping it. He stood up, revealing himself in all his nude glory as the blanket fell away and Q had to avert his eyes.

Q pushed himself back to his feet, brushing off his clothes as he did and trying to hide his blush. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, “I'm fine. There's no reason to worry about me.”

James smirked, “That's quite the brave face you put on.”

Before Q could reply, James was already changing. It was a fluid, rippling change that emanated up from James's centre and out, leaving behind a large grey-white wolf where the man had once been standing. Q sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“I can't believe you could understand me all this time... you arsehole.”

James barked, giving Q a wolfish smile, before trotting up the worn set of stairs out of the mausoleum.

There were two large, stone caskets which flanked the exit. A wrought iron gate that Q guessed was the door to the crypt itself was pulled open and there was a door at the far end, marked with the symbol of the planet of Pluto. Q's eyes lingered on the door for several seconds before he pulled his eyes away and jogged up the stairs after James.

The graveyard and courtyard were as dismal as the rest of the castle grounds. The grass was brown and dead, the trees reaching their bare, skeletal arms towards the sky, and much of the engraving on the stone monuments had been lost to the ravages of time. A wrought iron fence and stone-arched gate marked the demarcation between the cemetery and the courtyard.

Leading back up towards the manor was a cobbled stone walkway, branching out before a set of large, leaded glasses French doors and a sweeping staircase which led up to a second story balcony that was overgrown with ivy. One of the staircases had almost completely collapsed in on itself, and the railing on the other were rusted through and swaying a little in the breeze.

James was pacing back and forth in front of the French doors. He stopped when Q came close enough to see that the door was locked and that several of the leaded glass panes were broken.

Dropping to his knees, Q slowly and carefully reached through one of the broken frames. Shards of glass were still clinging to its edges, but he was able to get almost his entire arm through. He fumbled with the heavy lock, cursing when he nicked his arm against one of the shards, but he managed to unlock the door and jerked his arm back.

Luckily, he hadn't hurt himself badly and there was very little blood. With the lock undone, the door swung open with a loud creak, inviting them into a long abandoned parlor.

“How inviting.”

James huffed, trotting into the room and beginning his own investigation. Along the wall with the fireplace there were an array of porcelain dolls, each of which had their heads smashed in. Aside from that, there was very little to remark upon within the room except for the heavy green velvet curtains along one wall.

It was behind one of those curtains and near the locked double doors which led out of the room that Q found a heavy key ring with a large, rusted iron key on it along with a smaller one for the parlor door. There was nothing distinguishable about the key apart from its size, which was rather considerable.

“Where do you think this leads?” Q asked, holding the key out to James.

Sniffing at it, James turned his nose away and sneezed. It sounded rather odd coming from a wolf and Q couldn't help but laugh – which earned him a dirty look from James – but then James turned away and pointed towards the door with his paw.

Unlocking the parlor door led them back out into the familiar expanse of the manor's hallway. James trotted off, leading Q down the hallway and towards where the kitchens were.

The kitchen was in poor condition and Q stepped carefully, trying to avoid the rusted and degraded metal scattered about the floor. The cupboards were almost completely rotted through, and the floor was rotting through in a number of places as well. Q accidentally put his foot through one such spot, and James had to help tug him back onto a more solid patch of floor.

After that, Q made sure to follow James, who had much better idea of where solid footing was. James led him over to the door which led to the storage cellar, which had rotted off its hinges, leaving nothing behind but the large metal fasteners that had once held it in place.

Stepping around over and bending under those, Q was relieve to find that the stairs which led down into the cellar were made of stone and not wood. The last thing he wanted was to take a tumble down the stairs and break his neck.

The only light in the cellar was at the bottom of the stairs, coming from a badly damaging lamp that continually flickered, throwing strange shadows and shapes upon the walls. At the far end, hidden behind what had been shelves at one point, as an old door with a rusted iron lock. This was the door for the key.

Picking their way across the cellar, Q scrunched up his nose at the awful smell. It smelled of mold, decay, and pungent spices. Broken jars littered the ground with glass and slime; some of the jars were still intact, their contents having warped themselves into horrible monstrosities with the passage of the years. The light from the lamp only made it worse.

In the dim light, the lock was rather difficult to see and it took a couple of tries before Q managed to get it in. It took some effort to turn it, rust flaking off in his hand, and he had to throw his weight against the door to get it to budge even a jar.

Rubbing his now sore shoulder, Q grumbled, “Fucking...! Just open already!”

James huffed and Q shot him a dark look as he continued to push at the door, slowly shoving it open inch by bloody inch. “I don't see you offering to put your back into it.”

Eventually, with a lot of effort that left him panting and sweaty from the effort, Q managed to get the door open wide enough for him and James to slip through. The hall on the other side of the door was not promising at all.

It was even more poorly lit than the passage that connected the castle to the manor and was even more damp. The steady drip of water into puddles was the only sound aside from that of Q's boots on the cold stone and the shuffle of fabric. The passage seemed to go on forever with no ending in sight.

The farther they walked, the more claustrophobic Q felt. He could barely see the dirty walls and the only light came from a few scattered lanterns that hung from the ceiling, many of which were broken. Those of them that still worked gave off barely any light, throwing everything into an eerie twilight. The air itself was musty and wet, smelling badly of decay and something that had gone off.

When the passage finally ended in yet another door, Q almost turned around and walked back. He certainly didn't want to know what was on the other side of that door.

The door swung open with a loud creak, revealing a well-lit passage on the other side. Stepping inside, the air was still cold, but all of the lamps here were functional and it looked marginally well-cared for. At the very least, someone was down in this area quite a bit.

The fur on James's back stood on end and he growled low in his throat as he slowly stalked forward. He kept low to the ground, tail sticking straight out, as he moved.

“Something wrong?” Q asked, warily following behind James as they emerged into a wider area just past the door.

To the left, there was a wrought iron staircase that spiraled upwards to a heavy door. To the right, there was a long passageway lit by flickering torches that looked like it went on forever. There were tall stone arches set into one side of the wall, but Q couldn't make out what they marked. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd have to say that they'd stumbled into another dungeon.

James was growling at the cells, which made Q decide that they would avoid them and he headed towards the staircase. The staircase creaked under him just a little, but didn't give, and the sound of his footsteps on the metal were loud in the silence of the dungeon.

Q wasn't sure of what he was expecting when he tried the door, but it didn't surprise him all that much when he found that it was locked. That was just his luck. Half the doors in this place were either broken or locked. Q looked back down at the dungeons and the passageway of cells.

“Looks like we are going to have to go back down there,” Q said. “Hopefully we'll find the key down there. Or at least something to force the lock.”

For the most part, the cells were empty. There was nothing in most of them but a washstand and a moth-eaten mattress on a cot. Some of them, though, held remains in varying states of decay. Q stumbled away and tried not to throw up when he nearly stepped on the bloated arm of one such corpse that was stretching out into the hall from its cell.

The cells were locked and peering inside showed Q nothing of interest. Some ways ahead, the hallway made a sharp turn and the cells stopped. A large, heavy door studded with rivets blocked the path. There was a small peek hole at about eye level carved out of the door, covered with small metal bars and with a small wooden door to match it. It was closed, keeping Q from looking into the room beyond.

Q's hand trembled as he reached towards the handle on the door, lifting the latch and slowly pulling it open. He poked his head around the door, keeping his hands clenched on it.

He nearly slammed the door shut and retreated. It was a torture chamber.

There was a large iron maiden in one corner of the room, it's heavy door hanging open and revealing the spikes within. Along the far wall an array of different implements were displayed, and there was an oven blazing as well. Right in the centre of the room was a chair, covered in spikes, in which a withered corpse sat. In the flickering light from the fire, Q could see that a key was hanging from a length of cord around its neck.

Moving into the room, Q let James brush past him as he closed the door. He was a little relieved to notice that the lock was on the inside of the door, meaning that even if Severine or Dominic managed to sneak up on him, they wouldn't be able to lock him in.

A small flight of stairs led down into the torture chamber proper, and Q slowly approached the corpse. It didn't smell, but it was withered like a mummy and slumped forward in its spiked chair. The spikes had dug into more than just its arms, but its back and arms as well.

Q slowly reached for the key, his fingers shaking. He hesitated a few inches from it, then reached forward.

The corpse grabbed his wrist, jerking forward so that the horrible withered face was only a small distance from Q's. The lips had shrunk back, revealing a toothless grimace. It had horrible breath that stank of blood and rot, Q recoiled, feeling his stomach jerk.

He tried to pull his arm back, but the corpse's hand was tight around his wrist. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't get free.

“Death...!” the corpse hissed out between its teeth, eyes glowing a demonic white.

James leapt up, grabbing the corpse's wrist in his jaw and jerking. It led go of Q's arm, causing him to stumble back and fall to the ground. There was the crunch of bone and tearing of flesh, but the corpse made no other sound, falling back into its seated position. James released its arm, pulling back to take a defensive position in front of Q, but the corpse made no further moves.

Heart fluttering and chest heaving, Q pressed a hand over his heart as he willed it to calm. It took several long minutes, but he eventually could breathe again and the feeling of light-headedness passed as did the urge to run.

With still shaking arms, Q pushed himself up onto his feet. He gave the corpse a wide berth as he circled the chair, but he could see nothing to restrain it so that he might be able to take the key from it. A quick search of one of the nearby tables yielded nothing to bind to it, and the only chains that Q could find were anchored securely to the wall.

The only thing left in the room that Q hadn't examined was a statue set into an alcove in the wall behind the corpse's chair. It was composed of a man and a woman, fused together, each holding a pot of flame in one hand. Above their hands was another pot of flame, and a fourth one lay at the base of the statue. Carved into the base of the statue was an inscription.

He read the inscription aloud: “Link the four elements of fire, earth, air, and water together. By doing so, form the fundamental Karena Aurea or “alchemic bond” which binds flesh and spirit together for an infinitum.”

Each of the pots were inscribed with a different symbol and, when Q looked at the ground, four raised stone panels were painted with different coloured symbols. Cautiously pressing his foot down on one, it depressed with a soft click. The fire in one of the pots went out.

“So it's a puzzle. But what purpose does it serve?” Q crossed his arms, trying to sort out everything. The inscription was their only clue. He looked down at the coloured panels on the floor: brown, blue, red, and green. They matched the four elements.

“Flesh and spirit...” Q looked back at the corpse. “If they're bound together, then so long as the body survives, the spirit endures as well. So, we have to separate the two.”

Stepping onto one of the floor panels, he watched as two of the flames extinguished themselves, while the one that had gone out when he had stepped on the first panel relight. He looked down at the one he was standing on, then carefully stepped on each of the others, noting the patterns and memorizing them. Once that was done, he stepped off of the panels.

“James, I need you to stand on the red one.”

James moved, stepping onto the red panel which depressed into the floor with a click. Q stepped onto the blue one, then the yellow one. He pointed to the green one next, “Now stand on that one. This will not take long.”

Once James was standing on the green panel, Q stepped onto the blue panel, followed by the yellow one. All four of the flames extinguished themselves. There was silence.

“Hm, I thought that would have worked.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than blue light began to emanate from the corpse behind them. Q whirled around, eyes wide, as the corpse trembled, head shooting up as its eyes, mouth, and nose opened and blue flame erupted out in a stream with a horrible, ear-splitting scream. The stream split into four, flying into the pots of the statue which then erupted into a bright blue light.

The corpse sagged backwards into its chair, unmoving and smoking slightly. Slowly, Q approached it. It looked... different than earlier. The dry skin had a grayish tinge to it and the stitches that looked to be holding it together stood out in stark relief to the flesh.

Q grabbed the key from around its neck and pulled. It came free with a loud snap of the cord. He jerked away. The corpse didn't move.

Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, Q gestured to James and the two of them hurried to the door and out of the torture chamber and back into the dungeon. The two of them ran back towards the iron staircase and hurried up its steps. Q was panting when they reached the top and he inserted the key into the lock. He turned it just as a voice filtered up.

“There you are precious one...”

His blood ran cold and he slowly turned, looking down towards the entrance.

Severine looked up at him with her dark doll's eyes, her fire poker in hand and hanging at her side. Her head twitched around and she giggled. “I will have your azoth. It will complete me. I will be perfect. Perrrrfect.”

James growled, nudging Q back towards the door as he edged between Q and the threat. Q got the message. He pulled the door open and squeezed through just as Severine started up the stairs after them. James followed after him as they ran up the short flight of stairs and into the room beyond.

Q's heart nearly dropped out of his chest when he saw the room. There were no doors. There was nothing but an odd, crystal floor and a large glass dome stretching up and over them. There was no way out; they were trapped.

Retreating across the room, Q's ended up slip-sliding across the crystal floor. James faired better, claws scratching against the surface as he stood protectively in front of Q, poised and ready to pounce at the slightly provocation.

Severine was close behind, head still twitching madly as she giggled. She slowly approached them, as though she was pursuing them at her own leisure. Her fire poker scraped along the ground, a horrible, horrible screeching noise which filled the entirety of the room with its sound.

She came to a halt only a few feet from them, still twitching. “I will... I will be complete. You... filthy creature... inviting men into you again and again and again...! I will be complete. I will feel. I will be perfect. You... you are not perfect, yet precious to the master. No. I am the perfect woman. You have what I have not. I will take that from you. Give it to me!”

Her voice raised as she spoke, becoming higher and higher the more she said, words running together. She raised her fire poker above her head, about to bring it down on James and then advance on Q. Her mad laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls and the ceiling.

James snarled, springing and sinking his teeth into her shoulder. Severine lashed out, still laughing, as she struck his side again and again with the poker. She threw James off, kicking him to the side as she did. Blood spilled from the wound and from her eyes. It took Q a few seconds to realize that she was crying.

She raised the poker, dripping with blood as James struggled back to his feet, and ran her tongue along it, collecting the blood. Her face turned into a maniacal grin.

“Azoth... azoth will complete me... I will take your azoth. I will be complete... tear it out, tear it out... I will have it, it will become part of me.”

James lunged again, grabbing her arm with his jaw and tearing it down. Severine made no sound of pain, just continued to laugh, shrieking about how she would be complete once she took the azoth from Q.

Q backed up, falling over and landing hard on his butt on the hard crystal floor. There had to be something that he could do. There had been the chandelier in the church, but he could see nothing here. Maybe if he... he crawled along the floor towards the edge of the room, where the marble floor began again.

There was an array of various ancient devices and even an old camera arrayed on a table. Q shoved them aside, trying to find something. There was nothing of use on the table. He could hear James whimpering behind him and turned to look.

James had been flung back, close to where Q was, white fur stained with blood and breathing laboured. Severine was twitching, her eyes focused on the ground. She let out an ear-piercing scream, dropping her poker and throwing her hands up over her face.

“No! No! Not perfect! No no nonnononononononono!”

Her screams and denials rang loudly, at far too high a decibel for the human ear. Q clamped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound and James whined, ears pressing flat against his head.

There was a loud noise, like a mirror shattering. Q looked up and gasped. He reached out, gritting his teeth against the pain of Severine's screams, and grabbed James's legs, pulling him back towards him and under the table.

Huge shards of glass rained down from the ceiling, which had shattered from the sound of Severine's screams.

Unlike James and Q, Severine seemed to care little for her own safety, in fact, she seemed almost happy to see the glass. She spun around like a child, hands upraised as though to catch the falling shards like snow. Her face was still stained with trails from her bloody tears, but her mouth was upturned in a grin.

A shard nearly as tall as she was broke off from the ceiling, falling end over end toward her. Severine spun in a circle, arms upraised to embrace it as it ran her through, pinning her to the floor.

She let out a pained gasp of shock, the last shards of glass falling to the ground with a soft tinkle. Her arms remained upraised for a few more seconds before they fell down uselessly at her side. She made a soft noise, one which sounded surprisingly content and smiled properly for the first time.

Severine took a last, shuddering breath and moved no more.

James made a whimpering noise, slowly forcing himself to his feet and emerging from under the table. Wisely, he stayed close to the edge of the room, avoiding the shards of glass which would have dug into his unprotected paws. Q crawled out after him.

“Are you alright? She–”

James shook his head, tongue lolling out as he licked at his wounds. Q realized that the blood had already begun to slow as the flesh knitted itself back together. It would take some time, but James would heal.

“Right. Healing factor. Do all werewolves have one?”

James nodded, settling himself down near the wall while he waited for his wounds to heal.

Very, very slowly, Q approached Severine. He held his breath in, expecting her to pull herself up and off the shard of glass or simply tearing it out and throwing it at him. As he got closer, however, he noticed that the shard hadn't pierced her through the stomach as he'd though, but had gone straight through her chest, piercing her heart.

Biting his lip, Q looked at Severine's body. She was dead. He... he couldn't believe that things had come to this, but she looked so peaceful, her eyes closed and lips pulled up in a smile.

Just as he was about to turn away and join James, the glint of something in her pocket caught his attention. He looked a little closer, recognizing that there was a key in the pocket of her apron emblazoned with the symbol of Pluto. He looked up at Severine, unmoving and gone, and carefully eased the key from her pocket. He did feel guilty that she was dead, but had there really been any choice? She had meant to kill him.

With the key in hand, Q retreated to James's side, sagging against the wall and weighing it in his hand. There were so many questions swirling around in his mind. All of them came back to azoth. Something that all of them claimed he had. It was, that book had said, the essence of life.

What did that mean? Why was this azoth that he supposedly had so special? What did they all want from him?

All of these questions bounced around in his head, but he could not think of the answers. Perhaps all he could do was push forward and hope that they revealed themselves to him. He and James had survived this far, they could make it through this. Of that he was sure.

Resting a hand on James's furry head, he ran his hand through the fur and relaxed. They would need their strength to face whatever was to come.


	3. Res Nullius

Although it was fairly obvious that James's wounds weren't completely healed, he still pushed himself to his feet and made his way back over to the stairs. Q followed a short ways behind him, the Pluto key clasped tightly in his hand. He gave James a worried look.

“Will you be alright?”

James inclined his head, heading down the stairs and through the half opened door. He barked back at Q as though to say “hurry up.”

Rolling his eyes, Q followed after. It figured that he would be stuck with a stubborn old werewolf.

They had to retrace their footsteps back through the dungeon and back out into the manor. Everything seemed... far too quiet. Even though Severine was dead, Q felt jumpy and as though there was someone watching him somewhere. Dominic was still out there, along with this mysterious 'master' that Severine had been talking about; Q didn't think that it referred to Dominic, but he couldn't know for sure.

Outside, the wind had died down so everything was eerily still. They returned to the crypt within the mausoleum and the mysterious door at its rear marked by the symbol of Pluto. The key easily fit into the lock and it clicked, opening to reveal a damp staircase that opened into a cavern of some kind light by an eerie green-blue light. It almost looked like it was underwater.

Venturing into it, Q and James carefully looked around. Q was uncomfortable with how his footsteps echoed in this place, sounding as though they were coming from everywhere at once. It would be hard to tell if someone was following him.

From the cavern, the underground area branched out into three separate paths. The one directly ahead of them, across from the Pluto door, had a glowing green mark above it that Q recognized as a caduceus – the symbol of Hermes and one that he recognized from the book about azoth from the manor's library.

As though his feet had acquired a mind of their own, he started walking towards it. Perhaps, behind that door, lay the answer he wanted.

The door was heavy, made from what he guessed was cast iron, and riveted. It took a considerable amount of effort for Q to push it open and step inside. James followed behind him, sniffing the air and growling low in his throat.

The only thing within the large, circular room, was a mass of strange machinery connected to a large, glowing, green ball. As he got closer, Q realized that the green glow was emanating from within the glass ball, which was supported by large, metal supports that ran all around it. There was some kind of mass inside, and it appeared to be full of liquid.

When he was close enough to see what was inside, Q stumbled back against the machinery with a gasp. James growled, crouching low to the ground.

Inside of the glass enclosure, there was a a human form curled up into the fetal position. It was connected by an umbilical cord to a mass of... of _**something**_. Q had no idea what it was.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

Q stumbled, whirling around and backing up against the strange machine. Standing in the doorway, the only thing visible from under his hood was a sadistic grin.

“Now, now, my darling Q, there is no reason to be afraid. It is simply the creation of life from nothing. But now, I must ask that you come with me.” He gave James a disdainful look, spitting out his next words, “There is no reason to bring this mutt with you.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Where else do you have to go? Your parents are dead and this entire castle,” he gestured above his head, “now belongs to you as M's heir. It would be best for you to come with me. I promise that I shall took good care of you.”

Q shuddered. He didn't want to know what Dominic considered 'good care', not after everything he'd seen here. He shrank back as Dominic drew closer, reaching out a hand to touch a hand to Q's face. He jerked back.

“Fuck off!”

He kicked Dominic between the legs at the same moment as James sank his teeth into his leg. Dominic went down, cursing, and Q vaulted himself over him, running for the door and finding the strength to slam it shut behind him. Panting, he followed James as he ran down one of the other hallways.

They passed by several strange, grey masses that looked like men, but who simply stood there and muttered to themselves or banged their heads against the wall.

James and him kept running, Q following after the large wolf who seemed to know the route they were taking better than Q did. He could hear Dominic swearing behind them over the sound of his blood rushing in his head, followed by a loud bang. The column a few feet behind them exploded in a shower of dust.

“Oh, he's got a gun too. _Great_.”

James barked, jerking his nuzzle to a turn up ahead as he skidded to a stop, turning to face Dominic.

“James, you are not–”

James barked against, kicking Q with his hind legs like he was a horse. Q stumbled forward cursing. He continued on, chancing a glance back at James as he bolted around the corner. The last thing he saw was James tensing and then lunging, trying to get his jaws around Dominic's throat.

The hallway continued on, before branching off into two separate rooms. Q grabbed the knob of one and yanked it open, running inside and shutting the door behind him. Inside, there were tables stacked with instruments and notes of all kinds along with a strange device that resembled a furnace that dominated the back wall of the room.

There was also a hole in the wall that was just large enough for Q to crawl into. Dropping to his knees, Q crawled inside and managed to pull one of the tables near it over it to try and hide it. He managed to squeeze his way as far into the back of the hole, pulling his knees to his chest and willing his raging heart to slow.

As his pulse began to quiet, the silence became deafening. The only thing that Q could hear was the sound of his breathing, his blood rushing in his ears, and the quiet crackling of a fire.

Several times, he swore he could hear the frantic footsteps of Dominic along with his cursing, but it was just his imagination. The footsteps he heard thudded in time to the beat of his heart. He held his breath whenever they seemed to become too loud, hands tightening on his knees into a white-knuckled grasp.

Time seemed to come to a halt as Q waited with baited breath. He so wanted to leave his hiding spot and make sure that James was alright, but Dominic terrified him. Something about him seemed off – more so than either Vesper or Severine had.

For what seemed like hours, he waited there, breathing hard and heavy. His feet went numb and he could feel pins and needles in the soles of his feet. He hoped that James was okay.

The door slowly creaked open and Q's heart jumped into his throat. He held his breath.

The shuffle of paws and a steady sound of liquid dripping to the ground had Q crawling out my his hiding place and peeking out from under the table. James stood in the doorway, bleeding from a gash to his shoulder. He kicked the door closed behind him, stumbling his way over to Q where he collapsed into his lap.

Q caught James, running his hands through his fur and looking for more injuries. The wound was already starting to heal, but slower than before. James made a small noise that sounded like a whimper and a content sigh. His blue eyes were closed in rest and his breathing was heavy, but he was obviously still awake.

“Did you see where Dominic went?”

James huffed. He inhaled a deep breath, wolf form melting away as he retook his human form. Q turned his eyes upward, but couldn't quite hide the slight tremble in his hands which were still buried in James's hair. It seemed to completely be his luck that this would happen – and if he were in any other situation than the one he was currently in, he would certainly be taking advantage of being alone in a room with a ruggedly handsome and naked man. Now, though, was not the time to be thinking of that.

Blue eyes fluttered closed as James sighed and relaxed into Q's lap. He took a deep breath, “He fled back towards the manor to lick his wounds. I have no doubt he will be back. I'll get him next time.”

“And what if he gets you?” Q's hand resumed stroking through James's hair and his voice trembled just a little.

James opened one eye, smirking savagely, “I'll kill him before he gets the chance.”

Perhaps he should have been afraid. After all, his protector had just pledged that he would kill a man the next time he saw him, but Q couldn't find it in himself to be afraid. James had given him no reason to fear him, and he had every reason to fear Dominic. After every thing he'd seen and been through, Q knew that there was no way that Dominic harbored any innocent intentions towards him.

The gash on James's shoulder had faded to an angry red line that was only barely bleeding. It was gradually knitting itself closed, flesh smoothing over the wound and leaving no scar behind. A quick examination revealed that James had several scars dotting his torso – several jagged white lines, others puckered and knotted, like bullet wounds.

Absently, Q traced his hand over one that looped down from James's collar bone, a frown marring his brow. “If you heal so quickly, how do you have scars?”

James looked up at him, ice blue eyes boring into Q's. To Q's credit, he didn't back down.

“Certain wounds heal better than others,” James replied, slowly. He caught Q's hand with one of his, giving it a squeeze as he held it over his heart. His heart beat steadily under their joined hands. “Others were inflicted with cursed weapons, which always leave scars no matter what is done to heal them.”

“You werewolves are something else,” Q remarked. “To only be scarred by cursed weapons.”

“Werewolves claws will do the same. The bites are the most serious. Unlike that saying, our bite is worse than our bark.”

Q smiled, “That was terrible.”

“But it did make you smile.” James gave one of those little half-smiles that made Q's stomach do flip-flops in his chest. He sat up, still holding Q's hand in his, “Which is lovely by the way.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“A shame, really, I was only getting warmed up.”

“Perhaps you can try again later,” Q said. “When the atmosphere is more charming.”

James looked around, “Yes, this atmosphere isn't very conductive to such things. I'll take my leave of you for now.”

Before Q could say anything else, James raised Q's hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the knuckles. He smirked as the fluid transformation from man to wolf took place, leaving behind one very smug looking wolf and a faintly blushing Q who quickly pulled his hand back.

Looking anywhere but at James, Q pushed himself back to his feet. There wasn't much of interest within the room, aside from a piece of parchment nailed to one of the walls. There was a diagram drawn on it. At the top, were the words Prima Materia. Then, a line of arrows went from extraction, to purification, to synthesis, and finally to transmutation. After transmutation, it had a drawing of a bright red stone that was labelled as a Red Godstone – whatever that meant.

Q looked away, looking back to James, “Let's find a away out of there.”

They backed out of the room that they had been in and checked the other one. This one was an operating theatre, stained with blood and with the gruesome remains of a small baby lying in a container near the doorway. Q covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to throw up as he stumbled back from it. The half-rotted torso of a woman lay in another corner, her stomach and womb ripped open.

Q immediately stumbled backwards, slamming the door shut. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath and with his hand clasped tightly over his chest. He felt the fear bubbling up and crushed it back down, locking it behind tight walls. Now was not the time to be panicking, they needed to find a way out.

The only other room in this wing of the underground complex of hallways was securely locked, but it had a small window carved into it. With shaking hands, Q pulled himself to peek through and immediately wished he hadn't.

It was yet another prison cell, again containing the rotting body of a young woman. Her body was bloating and her skeleton was peeking through in several places, but Q was certain that her swollen stomach contained an unborn child. Another skeleton lay on the floor, limbs thrown asunder.

He didn't want to think of what those corpses had suffered through when alive. And what they meant for him.

The other wing split in a fork, one led to a dead end and yet another strange machine, whose large leaden pipes reached up and sunk into the ceiling. The other hall ended in a flight of stairs which led up towards a archway.

The archway opened into a large columned room. Just beside the the arch that they had come up from, were a large pair of double oaken doors with the image of a caduceus set into them in iron. Across from the double doors was a large marble statue of a man. In one hand, he held a caduceus which point down towards the earth, and in the other he held a scale. On either side of the statue were two doors – one painted a deep, blood red, and the other a shade of royal blue.

Along the base of the statue, something was carved: _Bring to me the stone of heaven and weigh it against the sins of Man. Should it prove righteous and pure, the way shall open to you._

“Well, that sounds like a way open to me,” Q remarked. “But where would we find this stone to heaven? Not exactly something one would leave lying around...”

Pushing open the red door enough to look inside, what lay beyond was a hallway lit by red light that filtered in through the stained glass windows and the red-tinted lamps overhead. There was another door at the end of the hall, guarded on both sides by two of those strange, grey men.

Q pulled the door shut. They could check that hall later.

Unlike the red door, the blue door led outside into a small garden. Broken stone benches lined the sides of the garden, whose plants were horribly overgrown with weeds. Many of the plants that were supposed to grow there were dead, their dry husks hanging over the planters.

At the far end of the garden was a fountain, no longer working and whose basin was choked with dead leaves. However, when he leaned closer, Q realized that there was something glimmering under the leaves. Shifting them aside, Q pulled out a strange looking rock that gave off a soft, unnatural glow in his hands.

Turning it over in his hands, it felt warm and surprisingly light despite its apparent weight.

He held it out to James, “Maybe this is that Prima Materia that document was talking about?”

James sniffed at it and barked. Q decided to take that as a yes. He held the stone carefully in his hands, “Now... we just need to find a way to turn this into the stone of heaven.”

Humming thoughtfully, they left the garden and return to the room with the statue with the god. Q was running through the steps that would need to be taken, “Extraction is first, than we need to purify it, synthesize it, and finally transmute it.”

He tapped a finger against his chin, “Do you think those machines downstairs have anything to do with this?”

James barked his agreement.

Q sighed, sucking in a deep breath. He really didn't want to go back, but it seemed like there was no choice. They'd have to return to the tunnels full of corpses.

He followed James back down the stairs and down the hall to the room with the diagram. Each of the different steps were colour-coded according to their name. There was a rough sketch of symbols along one side of the diagram, several of which Q recognized from the strange machines dotted around the area.

“Alright, I think I've got this worked out.” Q smoothed the paper out on the table, memorizing it. “It doesn't seem too difficult... hopefully these machines are easy enough to operate...”

They had to backtrack to the room with the figure floating in green liquid. The machine attached to it was marked with the first symbol on the diagram, marking it as the Extractor. The door to it was closed with a latch, that Q was easily able to open. He placed the Prima Materia inside and pulled the only lever on its side.

There was a loud bang as the machine roader to life, pipes straining. There was a flash of bright light. Then silence.

Opening the door carefully, Q ducked out of the way of the awful amount of smoke that issued outwards. Once it cleared, he carefully reached inside and pulled out what had once been the Prima Materia. It's appearance had changed from the metal it had once been.

The next one was the purifier which was located at the dead end near the staircase which led up to the statue's room. Q repeated the process from the first machine with this one, with a very similar result. This time, the ore that he pulled from the machine was silvery in hue, catching the faint light and glowing like the moon.

The third machine was in the room where Q had found the diagram. The machine was a little more run down than the other two. Q kicked it, hard, and stubbed his toe, but that jerked it into working properly. When he pulled the synthesized silver ore from the machine, it was glowing an eerie light and was the size and shape of a large oval. It fit neatly in Q's hand.

Retracing their footsteps back up to the room with the statue, Q looked at the red door. The last machine to complete the process was probably beyond the door at the end of the hall. He looked down at James.

“James, you need to take out those two things guarding the door. I'll make a run for the door.”

James barked. When Q pulled the door open, James darted past him, nothing more than a blur of grey and white. He was already bearing down on the first creature when Q blinked, sinking his teeth into his neck and crushing its neck. It collapsed to the ground with a wet thud.

In the seconds it took for Q to squeeze through the door and run towards the door at the end of the hall, James had already caught the other creature's leg in his jaw, crushing the bone. It collapsed to the ground with a muffled shriek and James tore its throat out in the next breath. He snarled, mouth stained red and looking like the wolf he was.

Q paid it no mind, opening the door instead and stepping into the room. It was boiling hot in there and Q was sweating in seconds. He hurried over to the machine, prying open its hatch and placing the white stone within its depths. He slammed it closed and secured it, pulling the lever that would transmute it into the Red Godstone needed to reveal the path.

There was an explosion of heat and light. Q backed up against the door, shielding his face and eyes with his arms. It faded all too soon and Q lowered them, blinking in the sudden dim light. He moved suddenly, feeling more than a little off-balanced, to retrieve the Red Godstone.

It wasn't much larger than a tea light, glowing from within with a bright red light all its own. In his hand, it was light and warm. Q closed his fist around it and rejoined James in the hallway, returning to the statue of the god.

Carefully, Q stepped onto the dais the statue stood on, using the caduceus as a balance as he placed the Red Godstone in the empty bowl of the scales. For a second, it wavered, sinking lower than the weights on the other side, before it soared back up. There was a loud click and the sound of a door creaking open.

James barked and Q looked back to see that the huge double doors behind them were open and unlocked. Biting his lip, Q grabbed the stone from the scales and jumped down from the dais. Nothing happened.

Cool air wafted in from the opened doors, sweet smelling. Q walked over, knees shaking just a little, and pushed the doors open just a little wider, stepping out into the evening air. He emerged from out of the castle onto a sweeping flight of stairs that split into two and arched around to an expanse of dirt path that led into the forest. As he stepped out and looked back, Q could see the castle towering over the thick outer walls.

He gasped. They were outside. They had escaped.

He turned to James, “You said you could get out us out of here if we reached the forest, right?”

James nodded, barking.

Q looked over to the forest, which stretched ominously towards the horizon. A worn dirt path ran from the entrance to the castle into the depths of the forest. Q's heart was hammering in his throat and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

He looked back up towards the castle. Then he looked back at James, “Let's get out of here.”

They took the left arm of the staircase to avoid the mumbling grey man who stood halfway down the other arm. James growled at him, but he didn't move or react, simply remained where he was, staring and mumbling at the ground.

When the hit the dirt path, James's nose shot up into the air and he snarled, head snapping around to a mass of bushes. He growled, ears standing straight and tail pointing straight outwards.

“James? What's–”

With a blood-stopping snarl, James tensed and ran, easily leaping over the stump of a dead tree and into the bushes. Q heard the sound of rushing feet, of James snarling, and then nothing. He started after James, stumbling up the embankment on the side of the path.

_**BANG!** _

The loud crack of a gunshot shattered the silence and sent a swarm of birds flying in a panic. Q froze, his blood running cold. It couldn't...

“James!”

He scrambled up the embankment, but he couldn't get through the bushes. They were grown so tightly together and covered with thorns that he was more likely to get caught and trapped in them than get through. Q slid back down the embankment, his heart hammering in his chest. James's name was a chant in his mind in time to the frantic beat of his heart.

The dirt paths of the forest formed a labyrinth, one that Q knew he wouldn't be able to navigate safely on his own. But the adrenaline thudding in his veins drove him onward, he stumbled along, running and calling out James's name. He stumbled across two dead ends, finding nothing, and feeling the hope draining from him.

James had always come. He couldn't lose him now. If he lost him here, if James died, then it would be his fault because James would never have been in this situation if it wasn't for Q. It was stupid to think so – after all, James was a grown man and more than capable of making decisions for himself – but he wasn't thinking too clearly.

He tripped over the upraised root of a tree, falling to the ground in a heap. He scratched his palms up on the dirt and gravel path, but that didn't stop him.

Climbing back to his feet, Q continued on. He ran along the path, calling out to James, trying to find where the werewolf had run to. He knew he couldn't be far; that gunshot had been very close.

He was breathing heavily and his face was smeared with sweat and dirt as he stumbled along in the twilight of the forest. After several minutes of running around in a blind panic, the fear set in, curdling into a ball of ice in his stomach. He was also certain that he'd run past that one particular tree four times.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself, Q carefully retraced his steps as best he could, wandering around the path that he thought was the closest to where he'd heard the gunshot. Walking along it for several minutes, Q worried that he'd chosen wrong.

There was a splatter of blood and a large pool of it at the centre of the path only a short ways in front of him. Eyes opening wide and inhaling sharply, Q slowly edged along the path, following a trail of blood along the path. Dread was flooding through him. It was a lot of blood, certainly more than he'd seen James lose before.

A little ways ahead there was a tuft of white fur snagged on a branch. Reaching out, Q gently pulled it from the branch. It was matted with blood. He weighed it in his hand and then hurried onward.

The path curved up ahead and Q turned around it. There was more blood and fur snagged on the bushes. He could hear a soft whining noise now, the one that James made when he was hurting and in pain. It got louder the further Q moved along the path until he sounded like he was right on top of it.

A sharp bark caught Q's attention and he whirled around, spotting a small path nearly obscured with bushes. He shoved his way through them, finding James collapsed and bleeding from a bullet wound to his side on the ground.

He rushed over, stumbling and falling to his knees at James's side. He tore a chunk of fabric from his tunic, pressing it against the wound. It was the only thing he could do to stop the bleeding; he had no medical supplies on him at all and he had no idea where to find some. If he ran for help, there was a good possibility that James would die.

“It's alright now,” Q said, trying to comfort him. He couldn't keep the tremor from his voice. “I just need to stop the bleeding and you'll be fine.”

James made a high-pitched noise, jerking his head from side to side. He was moving, trying to force himself back to his feet, but he stumbled back to the ground.

“James, you have to stop moving! You're only going to make it worse! What's–”

He heard the click of a revolver.

“It's pathetic, really, how much you care for that filthy animal. I suppose I shall have to put it out of its misery for you then, my darling Q.”

Q whirled around, but he couldn't see Dominic anywhere. He tried to hunch over James protectively, but he was bucking too violently and flung Q off, back towards the path. James's nostrils flared as he gestured frantically with his muzzle. His blue eyes blazed, “RUN!” That was what he was trying to tell Q, he realized. This was a trap; Dominic had meant to lure him in, capture him by using an injured James as bait.

_**BANG!** _

James let out a loud, pained howl as another bullet tore into his shoulder. He struggled to his feet, collapsing back to the ground, his legs refusing to hold him. He whined at Q.

Q got the message. He stumbled to his feet and out of the bushes. He could hear Dominic swearing from somewhere inside the bushes. He ran down the path, trying to put as much space between the two of them as possible. Hopefully, Dominic would come after him and leave James, but Q had very little hope that James would be able to survive those wounds.

He raced through the forest, running faster than he could remember having run before. His feet kept slipping on loose rocks and errant tree roots, but he just caught himself and stumbled on.

As he ran, he swore he could hear Dominic's heavy breathing behind him. He was only relieved not to hear another gun shot.

He stumbled out of the forest and onto the clearing of a cliff. Sliding towards the edge, Q peeked down. There was no safe way down that he could see, it was just one long fall down a mass of jagged rocks to the river below. He took several steps back, turning around with the intent to find another path.

Dominic blocked his way.

He stepped forward, towards Q. “Well now, it seems you have nowhere left to run. A pity. I do enjoy a good chase. You have put up quite the good fight, my darling Q.”

“Shut up! I'm not your darling anything!”

“Oh, but you are,” Dominic purred. “You are my darling, Q, our precious child. It is through you that I will be reborn again... this time with your azoth.”

“What do you mean? What azoth? I don't know what you're talking about!”

Dominic grinned, “Azoth... the essence of all life. All living beings contain some small amount of it within themselves, with women containing the most. But you, my darling Q, you are unique. You have your mother's azoth. With it, I shall possess immortal life – I will be complete!”

Q breathing shook, “M-my mother? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“Ah, you don't know then. Well, I'm certain this will be... quite the shock to you then, my darling Q.”

Reaching up to his hood, Dominic pulled it back, revealing a painfully familiar face. It was certainly the face of a man, but Q recognized the eyes, the shape of the nose and lips.

Dominic was almost a completely perfect copy of his mother.

“You see, my darling Q, your mother and I... well, we are clones.”

“N-no...” Q took a step back. “That's... that's not possible.”

“Oh, but it is. Unfortunately, my darling, I was not quite the perfect being that your mother was. It was she who inherited the azoth, she could who could grant eternal life and youth. But now, she is dead, but she had the good sense to pass her azoth on to you. And now, I shall take it from you.”

Dominic had his arms open, as though to embrace Q, who took another step back, foot landing on a loose stone. His ankle rolled, sending Q falling backwards.

_Shit!_

His body crumpled under him and his head struck a rock. His head swum and consciousness was rapidly being blotted out by darkness. Q cursed; he couldn't fall asleep now! As his vision faded completely, he could see Dominic leaning over him, a savage smile on his lips.

“Soon, you shall birth me once again...”

– –

Consciousness was slow to return to Q this time. His head felt as though someone had been tap-dancing on it with cement-soled shoes. He felt tired and sluggish, limbs and eyelids heavy as he pushed himself up into a sitting position to look around. The tips of his fingers brushed against his glasses. Picking them up, he unfolded them and put them on, looking around.

He was locked in some kind of cell, the bars rusted, but sturdy, and the floor was wet. Aside from himself, there was nothing but a bucket half-full of some truly foul-looking water in the corner.

Standing shakily on his feet, Q had to lean heavily against the bars to keep his balance. His feet were cold against the hard ground, and Q was both quite startled and also more than a little terrified when he realized that his clothes and shoes were gone; they were replaced with a bloodied hospital gown of some kind that barely reached his knees.

Q had to lean heavily on the bars to support himself, stumbling over to the cell's door. His fingers were shaking as he tried to grab at the lock, frustrated when he found it to be in excellent condition. There was certainly no way he could break it on his own and there was no key in sight.

Hopelessness settled in and he collapsed to his knees, his legs not having the strength to support his own weight. Dragging himself to the far corner of the cell, Q pulled his knees close to his chest, resting his forehead against them.

He was trapped.

Dominic had him in his keeping now. He was free to do whatever he so pleased with Q.

His shoulders trembled, not only from the cold as the cell was incredibly chilly. There was a small, narrow window set into the wall of the cell opposite the bars, but Q couldn't bring himself to look out of it. Freedom was an ever elusive concept for him, he never should have thought he would be able to escape this hell.

And it had cost James his life as well. James had done nothing but stumble into this. He had stayed for Q, had fought for him, and now he was dead because of it. That lay on Q. If only he had done something, James might have still been alive.

The pain and loss made his heart shrink and a lead weight settled into his very bones. Q pressed his head against the wall of the cell, feeling the cold dampness against it. He stared at the opposite wall of the cell, eyes unfocused and not registering it.

He could only resign himself to his fate now. Whatever it might be.

The cold and the damp sunk into him until Q felt numb. His emotions retracted into a tight ball, burying themselves deep within his chest. There was nothing now. He was lost. Q crushed everything back, packing into tightly into that little ball with his emotions; he would have no use for them. Better to be numb, the pain of whatever awaited him would hurt less.

“Now is not the time to be nodding off, Q.”

Q blinked, but didn't move. It seemed that hallucinations would plague him now. Was that how it was to be? That he would hear James's voice until Dominic came for him? Performed whatever experiments he wished upon him to harvest the azoth he had?

“I know you can hear me, Q. Answer me.”

“I know you can hear me, Q. Answer me.”

Q didn't respond. He didn't move. The pain would be too great to respond to the hallucination now. It would destroy him when it inevitably vanished.

“Damn it! Q! Answer me!”

There was the sound of metal wrenching. Q winced, drawing back against the cold walls of his cell, arms tightening around himself. Was this truly how it was going to end?

A large, warm hand settled over his, the finger tips were callused. Another gently reached over and cupped his chin, forcing his head up and to meet a pair of achingly familiar icy blue eyes.

Q stared. Any words he could have or would have said were caught in his throat. His breath seemed to have left him. He felt a little light-headed. It... it couldn't be...!

“James...” he whispered, breathing rushing back as the ball of his emotions cracked. It was like an avalanche inside of himself. He threw himself forward, arms coming up around James's neck and nearly throwing him off balance.

James caught him, one large, muscled arm wrapping around Q's shoulders, holding him tightly, “Oh good, you haven't lost your voice.”

Q punched him in the chest, “You bloody arsehole! I thought you were dead!”

James hummed thoughtfully, fingers playing with the ends of Q's unruly brown curls. “I would have been, if it wasn't a lovely young lady who came to my aide.”

That made Q jerk back, looking up at James. One of his hands fell to James's thigh, which he was relieved to discover was clothed, “What does that–”

James shook his head, laying a finger over Q's lips, “Later. Right now, we need to leave this place. I doubt that bastard will be gone long.”

Standing up, James reached down and helped a still unsteady Q to his feet.

Q's knees were still trembling violently under him and now that he was on them, he was aware of a burning pain inside of himself. He thought he might be sick. He stumbled into James as a searing cramp tore through him, balling his hand up into a fist. The pain was like nothing he had ever known; he thought he might burn up from the inside out.

James steadied him with hands under his elbows, holding him up, “Q, are you alright? Did he do something?”

Shaking his head, Q fought back the urge to vomit. The burning pain was awful, radiating outwards and making his limbs shake, “I don't remember... I fell and that's all I remember.”

James growled, the sound coming from low in his throat. It was jarring to hear when accompanied by his human form, but Q was distracted by the horrible pain he was in. He pulled Q towards the wall, helping him to lean against it.

“Do you think you can walk? Just until we can get out of here.”

Q inhaled a deep, shaky breath, and nodded. The pain was awful, excruciatingly so, but it seemed to be getting slightly better as time passed. It was barely a marginal improvement, but it was one none the less. Besides, it wasn't like he had much of a choice in the manner.

“What? You're not going to carry me out of here like a prince with his princess? You are rescuing me after all.”

James rolled his eyes, “You're no princess, Q. Perhaps I'll take you up on that offer at a later time.”

He stepped away from Q, who sagged against the wall, shuffling out of the pants he had been wearing as he made the change from human to wolf. He nudged the pants with his nose, before trotting back over to Q, making a low noise in the back of his throat.

“I'll be fine,” Q choked out. “Let's just get out of here.”

He stumbled along after James as they left the dungeon, leaning heavily on the wall as James scouted ahead. He kept one hand clamped over his stomach, which felt as though someone had lit a fire underneath the skin and muscle.

They had barely left the cell and into a roughly carved out cave, than Dominic's voice echoed around them.

“I see that the mongrel is not so easy to kill off as I thought. Well, no matter, I shall deal with him. As for you, my darling, how are you feeling? It takes quite a bit of time and pain for your azoth to be stimulated enough from its latent state to allow for me to be reborn, but once I have dealt with this pest, you will be ready for me.”

Q recoiled against the wall. James snarled, lowering himself into a crouch.

Something brushed against Q's cheek, feeling like the brush of fingers, and he jerked away, nearly falling over. James leapt past him, teeth sinking into some unseen entity. Q felt his blood run cold.

James was thrown to the side, crashing into the stone wall. He stumbled back to his feet, dazed, but shook it off, leaping in front of Q so as to defend him. He snarled.

“Ah, so it's working then. A pity it doesn't work on animals, but it matters not. You can no longer see me, can you, my darling?”

Q scrambled back, ignoring the pain emanating in waves outward from his stomach. He looked around wildly, trying to see where Dominic was, but he could see nothing but the cave walls.

“I own you. You are mine. You shall not escape me, but give birth to me. Your azoth will be wholly mine.”

Q's blood ran cold. But he was stuck on one tiny detail.

“In case you haven't noticed, Dominic, I don't have the necessary equipment to give birth to you.”

Dominic laughed, the sound crazed and loud, echoing in the confined space of the cavern. “Oh, I assure you, my darling, that your, ahem, _lack of equipment_ shall not pose an issue. Azoth is the essence of all life. All it shall take is for me to introduce my essence into your body, and it shall take care of the rest. Unfortunately, you shall not survive the birth. Truly a pity.”

Q inhaled sharply. Those other women whose bodies he'd seen in the castle...

“I have been trying for many years, you see my darling, to be completely reborn, but every time a failure. But with you? I shall have no need to fear as such. The azoth within you shall be more than enough to ensure my successful rebirth and grant me what I desire.”

Dominic chuckled, “But enough chit-chat, I'm afraid I have a few... last minute preparations to make. You will be joining me shortly, my darling, and I shall deal with that mutt that insists on following you then.”

A heavy, potent silence fell over them. Q found himself frozen, not even the burning pain brought him out of the chasm of horror he'd stumbled into. He clenched his hand over his stomach. There was something stirring inside of him, swimming round and round inside of him.

He stumbled back to his feet, “We need to get out of here. _**Now**_.”

James barked in agreement, falling in at Q's side. He gently nuzzled against his hip, as though to offer him comfort, which Q appreciated greatly. The two of them stumbled through the cavern's many tunnels, trying to find a way out. James walked a little ways ahead, nose in the air as he tried to sniff out fresh air.

Q fell to his knees, breathing heavily, as he willed the pain away, next to a wooden crate. There was a folded note pinned to the top of it, he noticed, and it had his name scribbled upon it. With trembling fingers, he pried it loose and unfolded it, curiosity getting the best of him.

A shaking, looping script greeted him.

“ _To my dearest Q,_

_“I am afraid that Dominic has trapped you within the water tower, which has no exit. However, you may create one using this magisterium. Bring it to the top of the tower where you shall create a bridge to the House of Truth. I await you there and pray for your safety._

_Sincerely, Silva._ ”

Prying the lid off the wooden crate underneath, Q pulled out a small, bronze model of a bridge. It was rather heavy, but Q held it close as he stumbled back to his feet. His limbs were shaking and his stomach and throat felt as though he'd swallowed a hot poker.

James whined, coming back to him and squeezing himself under Q's arm. Leaning on him, Q was able to pull himself back into a standing position. He doubled over almost immediately, the pain shooting up his spine as sweat beaded on his brow. Even if the pain was somewhat dulled, it was still the worst thing Q had ever experienced.

After what felt like several hours of pain and wandering, they finally emerged from the dripping, underground caverns, and into a wide, open space. A large, spiraling staircase led up to the very top of the tower, while a pair of carved double doors with no handles, were set into another wall.

Q glanced down at James, “I suppose it would be too easy if we just left through the front door.”

James shook his head, gesturing upwards with his muzzle. There were a number of narrow windows set into the walls of the tower. James must have slipped in somehow.

Following the spiraling staircase up higher and higher, Q didn't look down. He'd always hated heights; if he looked down, the world would start spinning even worse than it had before and there was a good chance he'd start hyperventilating or puke – actually, he would probably do both, knowing his luck.

The higher they climbed, the thinner the air seemed to get. Or maybe it was just an illusion.

James dropped lower to the ground the higher they climbed, as though he was stalking a wounded animal. His head swept from side to side, ears perked and twitching. Every now and again he growled, making Q pause, until he stopped and they could continue on.

Eventually, they emerged through a narrow doorway to the top of the tower.

It was nothing more than a rudimentary observation platform, its railings having crumbled away to nothing. On all sides of the tower, there was nothing but water and, in the distance, a sea of trees and a manor. Just to the right of the doorway they had come out of, there was a bronze model of a manor and the tower itself, separated by a moat of water, represented in the model by a pool.

Carefully, Q set the bridge between the two models. It clicked into place and the entire tower began to shake violently, sending Q to his knees. James crouched low to the ground, growling. There was the loud sound of rushing water and the grinding of stone.

Once silence fell again and Q stood up, leaning against the wall and panting, laughter could be heard.

“I see you made it this far. I suppose I shall have to deal with you now. How would you like the mutt to die? I can make it quick and painless if you give yourself to me now; your surrender shall be oh so sweet, my darling.”

Dominic was cackling madly now. He was still invisible. Q pressed himself back up against the wall as James shifted in front of him, snarling at an enemy that Q couldn't see.

“I see you require a little more.... persuasion, my darling. Don't worry. I can drag out the torture for as long as need be. I will have you, even if it means I must break you first. Your azoth shall be mine. I shall be reborn from your ashes just like the phoenix.”

He was still laughing madly, voice echoing and seeming to come from everywhere at once.

“Oh, I have yearned for this day. I have dreamt of it, surely, but nothing could compare to the truth. I will be complete, and I shall prove to that old man once and for all that _**I**_ am the superior one.”

The illusion flickered for a second, and Q could see Dominic. He had a revolver pointed right at James, primed and ready to fire whenever he wished. He was circling around the two of them, clearly enjoying his moment of triumph.

The husky voice of a woman whispered into Q's ear, sending shivers down his spine, “Cover your ears, and I shall deliver you from evil.”

Q's eyes flew wide open. He recognized that voice, but it couldn't... he clasped his hands over his ears anyway, sticking his head between his knees and screwing his eyes closed. He focused on the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and of his ragged breathing. The pain in his stomach faded to nothing.

He chanced a glance up at Dominic, who had stopped talking. He looked confused, eyes wide and flickering back and forth. He didn't move. Then he was shouting something as his body twitched, eyes glazing over as he took a large step back, his gun falling from lax fingers.

Dominic took another step back towards the edge of the tower, foot stumbling over a loose bit of rubble. Q couldn't read his lips too well, but he was certain that he was cursing someone out.

James stalked forward after him, ears folded against his head as he snarled, legs coiling.

On the edge of the tower, Dominic's entire body trembled. James lunged, slamming into Dominic and knocking him backwards. James used the man's body as a springboard, pushing himself back off of it as he sent him tumbling over the edge of the tower.

There was an ear-splitting scream of Q's name. The loud sound of bones snapping. Then... nothing.

Lowering his hands from his ears slowly, Q could hear the faint notes of a song fading into the distance. He shook his head, shaking off the lingering traces of its spell and pulled himself to his feet. He felt... invigorated. The pain was gone.

He looked at James, who was looking out over the tower and the bridge connecting it to the manor that must have been the House of Truth. Maybe he would get the chance to thank Vesper later, maybe he wouldn't.

“Come on, James. Let's finish this.”


	4. Et Lux in Tenebris Lucet

They gave Dominic's crumpled and broken body a wide berth on the bridge as they hurried across it towards the House of Truth. Blood was pooling out from where the bones had pierced through the flesh and the smell was awful; the body smelled of iron and something else, something sickly sweet that spoke to decay.

There was no way around the House of Truth. The bridge led straight to its stairs and it was ringed on either side by high, twisted iron fences.

Everything about the manor that loomed before them screamed 'do not enter'. Despite the seeming innocuous appearing, there was something not quite right about it. There was a large caduceus inlaid into the door in burnished gold. It had no knob, but it creaked open as Q approached.

The inside of the House of Truth was cavernous. The ceiling vaulted high over them, covered in leaded glass. An array of walkways, hallways, and doors splintered off from the main cathedral-like room, the walls twisting as though they were made of trees or vines. The entire place looked warped, the floor looking uneven.

Above a silver pool of water, a giant statue of a hooded cobra stood poised, its fangs bared and ready to strike.

Q walked in, the door swinging closed and locking itself as he did. When he looked back at it, the door had melted seamlessly into the floor and walls. There was no going back.

They were locked in with whoever this Silva was.

A winding, crooked staircase led them down to the lower level, which was lit by flickering torches and tinted an eerie shade of red. Down here, there was only a single door, one which led into a strange and warped tunnel.

The stone was rough and untreated, huge stalactites reached down from the ceiling, flowing into the floor. Nothing looked carved, just as though the rock had been poured into place Stained glass windows of symbols and unrecognizable scenes were set into stone alcoves.

The only sounds was that of Q's bare feet padding on the stone floor and the clicking of James's claws. They wandered through the labyrinth of halls, Q marking their way by the stain glass windows that they passed.

A large, narrow red door confronted them, carved with ornate symbols with a Latin inscription carved into a bronze plate at its heart. It looked like a name.

With a shaking hand, Q reached out, taking the knob in hand and turning it. He was blasted with warm air as he slowly stepped inside.

The room inside was small, lit only by the light of a single lamp that through dull, crimson light on the walls. Papers and parchment were pinned to the walls, books stacked on the floor, open and dog-eared or stacked in large piles. A desk sat in one corner, its surface a mess of instruments and smoking vials and beakers.

A high-backed wheelchair creaked into sight. In it, sat a wizened old man, his straggly blond hair hanging around his face. His face was horribly sagged in, as though all the bones in one side of his jaw had melted away. He was smiling when he saw Q, slowly pushing his wheelchair forward towards them.

James growled, sinking into a crouch.

“Oh Q, I'm so happy to see that you are no worse for the wear after all you have been through,” he simpered. “Dominic was a very naughty boy, putting you through so much. But you're here now, and that's what matters.”

“Who are you?”

“I have many names, none of which are important. You may call me Silva.” He smiled and it looked wrong with how his face sagged; he was missing several teeth which looked as though they had rotted away. Silva leaned forward in his wheelchair, inhaling deeply.

“Ah, I can smell your fear and it is intoxicatingly sweet. You have nothing to fear, Q, I shall make sure that you do not suffer... but your mother, ah yes, your mother. She was stolen away from me. But now I have you. I always knew that you would come to me one day.”

“How... how do you know my mother?” Q took a step back, edging towards the door.

Silva's eyes flashed, “Once, she would have been mine. But then that _**bastard**_ came and stole her away from me. With her, I could have achieved everything; we were perfect. Eternal life... everlasting youth... together we could have had it all. Our line would continue through me. But she was taken. Her and her azoth was taken.”

He leaned back in his chair, falling back into that smile of earlier, “Dominic was an effort to recreate her, though he was a failure. He was always a – I suppose you would call him a bad apple. M might be gone, but she passed her azoth on to you, and with it I shall claim what is rightfully mine.”

“You mean the azoth.”

Silva's wheelchair inched towards Q, “I will drain the azoth from you – the very life from you. Azoth is life. It is power. To those who know how to properly use it, it grants immortal life and eternal youth. We alchemists alone know its secrets – know of its true power.”

A skeletal hand reached out to try and grab Q's hand, but James bit down on it, hard, pulling Silva from his wheelchair and to the floor.

“Curse you, you foul beast! I should have known better than to trust that abominable woman with your disposal!”

There was a flash of red light and James jumped back, whimpering as he covered his nose with his paws. Silva held a crushed capsule in his hand, smirking. He dragged himself across the floor to Q, grabbing his ankle.

“It matters not what creatures you have to come to your aide. I am above them all and I shall have what I desire. Your azoth is _**mine**_. You belong to me!”

Stomping down on the hand with his other foot, Silva released Q with a howl of pain. Q reached behind himself, grabbing the door knob and wrenching it open. James jumped out ahead of him as Q rushed out, slamming the door behind him and running for the stairs.

He could hear Silva laughing, the sound echoing throughout the entirety of the House of Truth.

“No matter where you hide, Q, I shall find you. You are mine. Your azoth calls to me... it sings a song. It longs for me in ways you know not. And I will have it. Run wherever you like, you will not escape me.”

His maniacal laugh faded, echoing through the halls and making the hair on the back of Q's neck stand on end. James was rubbing his paw over his nose, making a strange snuffling noise, as though something was stuck in his nostrils. He sneezed loudly, sending up a cloud of red dust.

“Are you alright?” Q asked, dropping to his knees. He held James's face between his hands, fingers sinking into the fur as he tried to get a good luck at James's muzzle.

James's eyes were bloodshot and his nose was running a little, but Q couldn't see any other signs of irritation. There was certainly no sign of whatever it was that Silva had thrown in James's face to make him act like that, still James snuffled and rubbed at his muzzle with his paw.

“I don't see anything wrong. Do you–”

James jumped backed, snarling. His head snapped around, as though he sensed something. His eyes were wild and his fur stood on end, tail erect. He kept his wary position, snarling at something that Q couldn't see or sense.

Carefully, Q moved closer, keeping his hands raised in a pacifying gesture, “James, James, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

James nodded, but he didn't back down. He stalked in front of Q, moving down one of the long, winding hallways. It forced Q to jog to keep up with him, hoping that James had some idea of where they were going.

They wandered through the twisting hallways for what felt like hours, making no progress. Just when it seemed like they might have found a way out, the hallways themselves seemed to change; twisting their form and layout so that they just became even more lost within the depths. Q got the feeling that getting them disoriented and exhausted was the point; it would make them easy prey for Silva.

Sometimes, he could hear Silva's voice, taunting them as it echoed through the halls. It sounded like it was changing, losing some of its simpering tone, growing deeper.

“Don't think that you can run from me forever, my precious bearer of azoth. You are playing my game well. Keep going; I'll have you soon enough.”

He sounded disturbingly close sometimes, like he was whispering in Q's ear, “I can see your every step. Never doubt that I own you. I am coming for you.”

Q jerked around, trying to see Silva there, but there was no one behind him.

They continued on, checking each room as they came to them. The majority of them held little of interest, in some cases there was naught but a bloodied symbol painted on the wall. In others, there was absolutely nothing. Several doors simply opened to reveal brick walls.

Q wasn't sure how long they had been wandering until they stumbled across a blank door which was painted black. As he looked at it, his shoulder lit up with a burning pain. Q groaned, wincing as he brushed his fingers over it; he could feel the raised edges of a car there, one he had had for as long as he could remember.

The door in front of them glowed, a brilliant red symbol outlining itself upon the door. It was a perfect match for upon Q's shoulder.

Out a trembling hand, Q pressed his fingers against the mark. It hummed, warm under his fingers.

“You bear the mark of azoth.” It felt like fingers were ghosting over his birthmark. The fingers were cold, like death, and Q whirled around, breath catching in his throat, but there was no one there.

With shaking hands and a reassuring look from James, Q pushed the door open.

Inside, there was nothing but a simple altar, upon which sat a golden key carved with the likeness of the sun. Inserted into a hole in the altar, below a carving of the god Hermes, caduceus in hand, was a dagger. The dagger's hilt was decorated with a blood red stone that reminded Q of the Red Godstone he'd lost when Dominic had captured him.

Arising from the hilt of the dagger and twirling around half the blade's length were two snakes, each carved from sparkling blue and red crystal. The dagger itself was carved from a pure golden metal, twisting around itself and into the stone which it had been stabbed into.

Q grabbed the key and then wrapped his hands around the hilt of the dagger and pulled it upward. It came up from the stone easily. Despite its ornate appearance and the material it was made from, it was light in Q's hands and felt like an extension of his arm.

He held it for several moments, feeling the warmth of the metal soak into his hands. Then, Q took a deep breath and tucked the knife up the sleeve of the gown he was wearing. Just in case.

James watched the entire thing with wary eyes, bumping his nose against the back of Q's knees once the the knife was hidden. Key in hand, they left the room.

Having calmed down from his earlier freakout, James sniffed at the key. He turned his nose upwards, then struck out along a different hall. Q followed him as they hurried at a brisk pace towards the exit. Or, at least, Q hoped that the key led to the exit.

They passed through another set of doors, these ones leading into another wide, open cavern. Stone columns wrapped around the walls, spiraling upwards towards the vaulted and ribbed roof. Near the ceiling, crystals were sent, providing a brilliant, white light.

Ridges ran along the floor, carving out patterns into the stone that Q couldn't understand. If he had a better vantage point, then he might have been able to make out what they were. As it were, he had no idea what the symbols might mean.

As they moved through the room, James pulled ahead of Q, scouting ahead. He carefully avoided stepping on any of the ridges, which Q did as well, and kept his nose low to the ground. Despite the seeming relative safety of the room, Q felt apprehensive. Things were going way too easily.

When they were halfway through the room, the floor seemed to drop out from under them for a barely a second, sending Q sprawling to his knees and James stumbling for balance.

The ground shook violently, sending Q sprawling. Brilliant, glowing crystal walls of purple shot up, separating Q from James. Punching it and throwing his full weight against it did nothing; the wall didn't even budge. James snarled, clawing at it and pouncing on it, but he was knocked back with a crackle of electricity. James stumbled back, stunned. He shook himself, sparks flying from his fur.

Q hammered his fists against the crystal barrier, which made a ringing noise like a gong each time he did. It vibrated under the blows, but didn't move at all.

“Fuck.”

“And how my little bird sings. Sing more for me. Sing of your pain, your anger, your hopelessness... I yearn to hear it all!”

Whirling around, Q pressed himself up against the crystal wall. He could hear James howling and clawing at it behind him, but James seemed a million miles away.

Silva stood in front of him. The aged, withered old man was gone, replaced with a youthful man who would have been considered handsome if it weren't for the horrible smile on his face and the way his eyes glinted. Every movement he made screamed predator as he slowly, languidly, moved towards Q, as though he had all the time in the world.

He leaned in close to Q, reaching out and cupping Q's chin between thumb and index finger. He roughly jerked it upwards, forcing Q to look at him.

“Such a shame that your pretty looks are to be wasted, but I can always create a new doll in your image. One which is... much more docile. Severine was quite the flawed creation. I shall not make the same mistakes with yours that I made with hers.”

He smiled, laughing, “Never fear, my precious Q, you will live on. I think I will keep your face. It is quite fetching to behold.”

His stroked his thumb along Q's lower lip, “I can think of all sorts of uses to put that pretty mouth of yours to...”

Silva leaned in close. His breath stank of decay. He breathed out, “Yess.... I can think of many uses for that pretty mouth of yours...”

He reacted without thinking. Lunging up, Q slid the knife up his sleeve out and shoved it as hard and as deep as he could into Silva's chest. He twisted it as it sunk in, the twin snakes digging and tearing through the flesh until the blade was pressed in to the hilt.

Blood spilled over Q's hand. Silva made a noise of surprise, blood flowing past his lips.

“Where – you little–!”

Q was breathing heavily, pulse thundering. He glared at Silva, “I am not some toy for you to play with!”

He twisted the knife, the blade humming with energy before it burst into flame. The fire didn't hurt Q, but it caught on Silva, spreading until he was covered in flame. The blond man stumbled back, screaming with pain as he did.

The walls of crystal shook and shattered to dust. That dust rained down in a glittering shower, catching and reflecting the light. Silva stumbled back, his body burning. He raised his hands up, but one of them dropped off, hitting the ground with a dull thud as it continued to burn. The man himself collapsed to his knees, before his body hit the ground face first.

Standing up, Q stepped back, feeling the adrenaline pulsing through him calm. James growled at Silva's corpse, before gently nuzzling into Q's hands, licking at his fingers in a comforting gesture. Dropping to his knees, Q wrapped his arms tightly around James's neck, burying his fingers into the fur and holding on tightly.

It was over.

James licked his face, making a whining noise. Q held him tighter, pulling himself together as best he could. There was one last thing that they needed to do.

For some time, they just stayed there like that, until Q was able to stand again. Holding the key tightly in hand, he and James walked across the large cavern room, away from Silva's smoldering remains. Pushing open the large, double doors, they emerged onto a familiar pathway.

This time, the castle grounds were lit with the faint light of early dawn. The key marked with the rays of the sun weighed heavily in Q's sweaty hand as they walked to the main castle gates. Q could hear his heart thudding loudly in his veins, his nerves almost getting the best of him. This was it.

Pushing the key into the lock, it turned easily, opening with a loud click. Q took a deep breath. He looked down at James.

“Ready?”

James barked. Q smiled and pushed the heavy wooden gates open, revealing the winding road beyond which led into the forest. The two of them stepped out, letting the gates thud closed behind them. The sun was warm and bright as it crested over the horizon. In the distance, Q could hear the faint howling of wolves.

“Let's get out of here.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Obscura](https://archiveofourown.org/works/949070) by [assasyngal (monayra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monayra/pseuds/assasyngal)




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